Page 10 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
She looked up with a sulky teenager expression on a face at least a decade too old for it. “Oh. You got here, then.”
“Leanne, this is Tom. My fiancé.”
There was a noise from Jase’s direction. It sounded a lot like a snort. Leanne twitched her lips up for a fraction of a second.
I sent her my best difficult-housewife smile. “Lovely to meet you, Leanne. Can’t say I notice a family resemblance between you and Phil”—this was true—“you’re way prettier than he is.”
That was a bare-faced lie. But it did the trick. Leanne uncurled her legs from the sofa and stood up. In her bare feet, she was a little shorter than me, with bleached-blonde hair pulled up into a big donut shape on top of her head that made her look like a ballerina doll. She had tattooed-on eyebrows and liked her makeup even more than her mum did. She hadn’t put any of it on wonkily, though. “You never said he was nice,” she told Jase accusingly.
“What? I said he was all right. You know, for . . .” Jase trailed off under the force of Phil’s glare.
“You just said he was better than the last one.” Leanne’s curled lip indicated just how little of a compliment that was.
There were rumblings from Phil’s direction, so I jumped in quick. “Phil never mentioned what you do for a living, Leanne.”
She smiled a bit more genuinely this time. “Beautician. You know that new salon in Pluck’s End?” I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. “That’s where I work. Dead posh, innit?”
“Nothing but the best, eh? My sister lives in Pluck’s End,” I added.
Leanne looked panicked. “I can’t do her a discount. I only just got taken on.”
“Nah, that’s all right. Cherry doesn’t go to that sort of place anyway.”
Now she just looked narked.
“Allergies,” I said quick. “She can’t wear makeup and stuff.”
You’d think I’d said she had something terminal. Leanne’s heavily mascara’d eyes went wide. “Oh my God, poor woman. That must be so awful. Still, she could have her nails done, couldn’t she? I get my nails done there.” She spread out her hands for my inspection. “Good, ain’t they?”
I gave ’em a good look, and did the pursed-lips-intake-of-breath thing. They were the fancy sort, all right, with several colours, little sparkles in and everything. Cherry, I wouldn’t mind betting, would rather do a Lady Godiva through the streets of St. Leonards than be seen dead with anything like that on her fingers. “Couldn’t get away with those in my line of work, love. But yeah. Dead smart. Like the bling.”
“See?” Leanne slung in Jase’s direction. “Some people appreciate them.”
Jase gave a more audible snort this time. “Lee, nobody gives a toss about your bloody nails. He’s just being polite.”
“Not like anyone else around here ever is, is it?” she snapped back.
Jase growled and put his paper down.
“Jase, mate, how’s work going?” I threw in a bit desperately.
That brought on a rant about effing bloody useless customers, which kept us safely occupied until Tracy came in to tell us dinner was ready and she wasn’t carrying it all in by herself so we could all shift our lazy bleeding arses, guests excepted, obviously, Tom, you just sit yourself down.
I sat myself down. At least the table was round, so I didn’t have to worry too much about sitting in the wrong spot. Phil, who still hadn’t said more than three words since we’d got here, sat next to me instead of trooping into the kitchen with Jase and Leanne. Fair enough. If the size of the rest of the house was anything to go by, it was probably chock-full even without his shoulders in there.
The meals arrived already plated, which was only sensible given the size of the table, but meant I got a lot more roast parsnips than I was entirely comfortable with. Also a lot more roast beef, Yorkshire pud, carrots, broccoli, and gravy.
I mean, I like my food, but I also like to be able to move after meals.
Jase was looking disgruntled at his dinner too, and seeing as I reckoned it was for the opposite reason, I swapped ’em quick when Phil’s mum optimistically went back out to get more gravy. “Think I got your plate, here.”
He grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. Phil huffed beside me, but I ignored him. I’d already checked, and he’d had at least as much on his plate as I had.
Leanne had brought her own plate in, with only lean meat, carrots, and broccoli, I noticed. She didn’t bother with the gravy either, just added a smear of mustard. Even then, she just picked at it all. I guessed she was trying to avoid taking after her mum’s admittedly well-rounded figure, but I was surprised she wasn’t giving the diet a day off seeing as her mum had made all this effort.
“Phil’s told you about our Nigel, I take it?” Tracy asked once she’d sat down. Jase was already tucking in, scooping up roast spuds with his fork like there was no tomorrow and no such thing as table manners either.
I swallowed my mouthful of gravy-soaked carrots. It was pretty tasty. “Yeah. Working on the oil rigs, isn’t he?”
