Page 25 of The Home Grown
“Oh, I was probably eighteen or nineteen, I guess?”
She nods. “Yes, I think it was shortly after that time Michael went to Germany. Just before Tony and I sold the house.”
And there he is. Dropped into the conversation—and that memory of Germany, too. My two least favourite things biting me in the ass at work.
“Yeah, I think that’s right.” I grit my teeth, forcing myself to ask the next question purely out of politeness more than anything else. “How are the rest of the family?”
I try to keep it vague, not wanting to single out Mike, and I figure this will give Mrs Betts the go-ahead to launch into a ramble, leaving me to listen and get on with my job.
It’s days like these I wish I never let Kathryn influence me. Thanks to her persuasion, I not only do hair, but I also do nails, spray tanning and waxing. Courses booked and paid for by me with the ultimatum of‘if you’re not multi-skilled, you can’t work in my salon’.
“All good, thanks. Stacey’s married now … and Kelly’s got a boyfriend … and she’s doing well with her music—and Michael…” My heart sort of lurches unexpectedly in my chest. “He’s got a trial this week for the Team GB men’s hockey team.”
She swells with pride while I dig deep for enthusiasm.
“Please pass on my congratulations,” I say.
I mull it over—all their lives turning out great and perfect and successful—as Mrs Betts keeps talking.
I nod and smile and pretend like I’m doing just as okay as they all are, right up until she asks me if I’m seeing anyone.
“Sorry, what?” I say, averting my eyes away from her hands to meet hers, amber and warm, just like?—
“Are you seeing anyone? I saw an engagement ring on Kathryn’s hand, so just wondered if?—”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I am,” I say, snapping my mouth shut as soon as I realise exactly what I’ve done.
It’s a simple subject. I’ve answered this question hundreds of times before, but this situation has caught me in a lie.
“Oh, that’s exciting.”
“Well…” I say, putting my attention back on her nails.
“I’ve seen that look before,” she says. “But I won’t pry.”
I offer her a shy smile. “Anyway … do you have plans for the weekend?” I’m scraping the conversational barrel now. We both know it, but I’m at the point where I’m soon to be reaching for the cuticle oil … I’ve almost made it.
Or so I think.
Judy’s phone chirps in her bag and instead of ignoring it, she cranes her neck to glimpse inside before assembling a huge smile.
“Ellie, love. Can you just grab that? Would you mind?” She nods towards her open bag, her phone peeking out.
I glance at it, trying to decide if it’s appropriate before hesitating. “I’m not sure I?—”
“It’s fine, love. It’s right on top. Just grab it for me, will you?”
I feel conflicted, but since I can’t think of a reasonable excuse not to, I face no choice but to reach for her phone.
I bite the inside of my cheek when I spot the caller ID. Bold and offensive, just like the caller:Michael.
Well, if this isn’t already awkward enough, I set the handset down on the space to my left and without hesitating, Judy uses the pad of her index finger to swipe up, answering the call, before tapping the speakerphone button.
And as soon as his voice rings out, that sickly feeling of loathing washes over me.
“Mam—just a quick one,” he says. “I’m just going through my schedule and?—”
“You’re on speakerphone, love,” she interrupts, filling with pride as she lowers her voice to fill me in. “The Team GB hockey trial is being run from here. He’ll be close to home for a short time, so I’ll get to see him a bit more than usual.”
