Page 47 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“Certainly not — not if it isn’t what you want to do. That would be a complete waste of time.” There was another caravan to overtake. “What do you want to do?”
Bez glared at her, all adolescent defiance. “I’m going to London.”
Vicky stared at her in alarm. “What, now?”
“Yes. I’m seventeen — almost eighteen. I can leave home if I want.”
“Ah.” Yikes — what could she say to that? “Uh... does your mum know?”
“I left her a note.”
“Oh. And . . . um . . . what will you do in London?”
“Get a job.”
Of course — get a job. As if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Right... what sort of job?”
“I dunno.” The girl shrugged, unconcerned. “Whatever.”
Damn — what should she do now? She really ought to turn around and take her straight back home — but she suspected that the girl would just run off again at the first opportunity. She might even kick off in the car, possibly causing an accident on this busy road.
The traffic ran smoothly for a few minutes and Vicky took the opportunity to covertly study her passenger. Seventeen... She sighed to herself. At seventeen you knew everything — or thought you did.
She wasn’t quite sure of the legal position, but she didn’t think Bez could be forced to return home if she didn’t want to. Even if she didn’t have her mother’s permission.
She’d never been in a more tricky predicament. She had to stall for time while she tried to come up with something.
“Well, there’s certainly lots of jobs going if you’re not too fussed what you do.” She kept her tone light, casual. “There’s plenty of hotels in London — they’re always looking for people to clean the rooms, wash up in the kitchens, that sort of thing.”
Another defiant glare. “I’m not going to clean someone else’s scuzzy room!”
Vicky nodded sagely. “No — I can see that wouldn’t be too much fun. And they don’t pay much, I believe. You might be ableto get a job in a shop. Not the posh ones in the West End, of course — they’d probably say you’re too young.”
“I’m not too young!”
“Oh,Ididn’t say you’re too young, but they probably would. But there are plenty of places in the suburbs — supermarkets and that.” She smiled encouragingly. “And you have experience, so that would help.”
“I don’t want to end up working in another shop. Not ever again as long as I live.”
“No? Well, that’s one thing to tick off your list then. What do you want to do? What do you like?”
Another silence — but this one seemed to have a different quality. Not sulky, more... contemplative. Vicky slanted her a swift glance. The girl was chewing her lip, apparently deep in thought.
“Reading,” she volunteered at last.
Oh. That wasn’t the response she had been expecting. “That’s good,” she responded carefully. “I’m not sure what sort of job you could get where you could do that. Unless it was in a bookshop, of course.” She caught the eye-roll almost before it happened. “No... well...”
“Did you go to university?” For the first time there was genuine interest in Bez’s voice.
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“It was brilliant.” There was no need to lie about it — the memories still danced in her mind. “Parties every weekend...”
“Everyweekend?”
“More or less. Friday and Saturday nights. There was a film club, and a drama society that put on plays and revues every term — some of them were really good. I was a member of the hiking society — though I don’t suppose that would interest you.”
