Page 41 of The Home Grown
“It looks like a nice place,” he says, cutting the engine.
“It was all I could afford so?—”
“But it’s yours,” he says. “I’d love to have my own place.”
“Well, I panicked, didn’t think through the costs and now I’m borderline needing a new boiler, which I can’t afford. I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
“It’s—”
“You don’t need to do this, Mike.”
“Do what?” he says.
But I’m reaching for my keys, half-held out in his hands, clutching onto them before I climb out of the car.
“Thanks, again. I really appreciate your help,” I say.
He hops out of the car and hurries around to the pavement where he studies me for a moment then opens his mouth like he’s about to say something.
But he doesn’t.
We stare at each other for a moment, then he nods firmly.
I lock my car, then turn away, walking the short distance to the front of my house, leaving Mike’s eyes burning into my back.
It’s only when I get to my front door that I realise he’s still loitering on the pavement, phone in hand and screen lit up like a Christmas tree.
I unlock my door and take a breath, then I look at him one last time before I slip inside.
I’m barely two steps into the hallway when there’s a knock.
When I open the door, Mike’s standing there, eyes fixed intently on the toe of his shoe.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Sorry—bit awkward, but I don’t suppose I could take a leak, could I?”
I hold the door open for him to step inside, shifting over enough so he can pass.
“Toilet is upstairs,” I say.
But Mike isn’t listening. He’s craning his head into my front room.
“Nice place,” he says.
“It needs some work. I know it’s not much…” I say, flicking on the light switch to the living room, in a depressing ‘ta-da’ moment.
“I love it. Loads of potential …” He steps inside. “You know, you could even knock this wall through and—” He runs his hand along the wall dividing the living room and a small reception room.
“I wanted to keep that separate and make a treatment area. Out of hours sort of stuff … I want to grow a little outside of my sister’s business.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” he says. “Mam mentioned you’ve got a decent set-up there, though.”
I shrug.
“It’s okay. I’d just like more time to…”
I snap my mouth closed, wondering why I’m telling him any of this stuff.
