Page 43 of The Cornish Christmas Book Clu
Before Gage could open his mouth to say it was Tamara who deserved most of the credit, his sister ploughed on.
‘That Christos struts around like he owns the place. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Pixie won’t see it though.’ Becky sounded exasperated. ‘She’ll find out the hard way, you mark my words.’
‘We’ll see, I suppose.’ An idea struck. ‘Do you have a Saturday job, Emily?’
‘Nothing round here, is there?’
‘I can’t pay much, but I could do with a hand here.’
His niece didn’t look too thrilled. Being stuck with her uncle and a load of old books might not be cool in her eyes.
‘If you aren’t interested, that’s fine.’
‘I s’pose I could if you like.’
‘Give you a bit more pocket money, won’t it?’ Becky nudged her daughter again. ‘Say thank you.’
He suppressed a smile when Emily looked exasperated. An almost forgotten memory struck so hard he bit his lip. Before his relationship with his mother had deteriorated, she’d often talked to him the same way. Mildly despairing, but loving all the same. It gnawed that they hadn’t had a chance to at least try to put things right before cancer had stolen her from him. He hadn’t even made it back from Afghanistan for her funeral.
‘Got brains, she has. She’s at Truro College taking A levels in computer science, art and design and English literature, and her teachers say she’s more than bright enough for university. First in our family, she’d be.’ A veil of tears clouded Becky’s eyes and she sniffed. ‘Apart from you maybe?’
‘I did get my degree while I was in the marines. Much later, though,’ he explained. ‘I don’t suppose you have a couple of hours free now, Emily?’ he asked.
His niece tossed him a wary look.
‘Good, because I’m not these days.’
‘Yeah. I guess your crappy knee sucks.’
‘You could say that.’
‘Just did, didn’t I?’
‘Emily, don’t be rude to your uncle.’ Becky tutted.
‘It’s okay. Perhaps we’ve both inherited the same weird sense of humour.’ Like it or not, half of his make-up came from Wally Harris.
‘Mebbe,’ Becky said. ‘Dad always had a joke at the ready. Mum used to get annoyed when he wouldn’t take anything serious.’
His sister rifled in her handbag and pulled out a small scrap of paper. ‘You never asked for this, but I’ve been carrying it around in case you did or if I got the guts to give it to you. It’s Dad’s address and phone number.’
If Emily hadn’t been scrutinising them both like they were zoo exhibits, he would’ve told Becky to toss it in the bin. Thelast person he wanted to contact was the man who’d screwed up by fathering him in the first place, then had done a bunk and moved on without a backward glance. Gage grunted his thanks and snatched the note away.
‘I need a few bits for our tea so I’m off to the shop.’ Becky angled her daughter a sharp look. Pausing at the door, she stopped and turned. ‘I’m ever so glad you came back, Gage.’
The heartfelt outburst touched him. ‘Me too. Off you go so I can put this young lady to work.’ He turned to Emily. ‘Let’s go outside first to see if you can come up with ideas for a Christmas-themed shop-window display.’
‘Me?’
‘Yep. Tamara and I have some thoughts, but I’d like your opinion.’
Her clear surprise indicated no one had asked her such a thing before. That reminded Gage of his first boss after he’d completed basic training. He hadn’t treated him as simply another clueless grunt, but had asked pertinent questions and had listened to his answers. Never calling them stupid, he’d always given them proper consideration before either agreeing or pointing out what might be a better solution.
‘Come on then. No offence to Mr Bull’s display, but I’m thinking of something a little less—’
‘Tacky and tasteless?’ She chortled. ‘Appeals to the oldies, though, doesn’t it? Chloe’s smart.’
‘She certainly is.’
