Page 10 of The Secret We Keep
“Was everyone okay?” I ask Mum, passing her the bowl of spuds.
She spoons some onto her plate, then hands the bowl to my dad sitting next to her. “Everyone was fine, hun. I passed on your apologies to Fi like you asked me to.” Mum places a napkin on her lap. “You get up to much while we were out?”
“No.” I chance a glance at Holly.
She thinks about picking up some chicken, but her lips roll back as if she’s suppressing a gag.
“Oh?”
“We decided just to chill out here. Celebrating a birthday in a church hall wasn’t Holly’s idea of fun.” I leave out the fact that Holly drank almost an entire bottle of my mum’s wine when we got back.
Dad holds the bowl of potatoes out for me.
“Thank you.” I pick up a carrot, my stomach churning where I’m so hungry, before I begin filling my plate.
“Manners,” Mum says like I’m five.
Holly kicks me under the table, resting her head in her hand which is leaning on the back of the chair.
Ignoring her, I plate myself up and grab my fork, tucking into dinner. “Any news on Jerry?” I ask about my brother. It’s out of politeness more than anything else.
Mum pours a glass of water for herself before holding the jug for my glass. I hold it up, and she pours as she tells me, “Nothing new. He said he’ll be back next week, if he can.”
“Because we’re all desperate to see him.” Holly says what I’m thinking.
I kick Holly in return, missing her leg and accidentally kicking the leg of the table causing everything to rattle.
Dad looks up, confused.
“Will be nice to see him,” I lie. Sure, I don’t really want to see my brother, but he’s family, and his recent promotion should be celebrated.
“Sure will,” Mum agrees.
“Anyway, I had a very interesting chat with one of my clients earlier. He said there’s an opening coming up, wondered if you were interested.” Dad’s voice is tentative but firm.
“Which client?” I ask, my insides sinking. How many times do we have to do this?
Dad’s hands pause lifting his food to his mouth. He looks my way. “Mr Caldwell. He owns the pension place in town. It’s an office job. Three days a week. Easy.” He says it so nonchalantly as he carries on eating.
For reasons I can’t understand, my dad likes to do this. He’s constantly searching for something for me to do. Doesn’t matter if the job is mundane or totally boring,doing anything is better than doing nothing, apparently. Sucks for me that I can’t do the thing Ilove most as a job, but what does that matter anyway? Even if Ididfind the courage to write, nobody in their right mind would want to read my work. Not that I’d let them. It’s not that anyone’s ever told me it’s bad, it’s just so nerve wracking, I’ve never let anyoneactuallyread it.
“That sounds interesting. I can email him.”
“He’s going to call you tomorrow.”
My cutlery hits my plate. “Dad.”
Mum puts her cutlery down, too. “Now, Morgan. This could be really good for you. It’s out of the village which means you can spread your wings a little bit. Start earning some decent money.”
My lips roll in on each other. Spread my wings? Like I somehow haven’t wanted to since I was a teenager. This charade is getting old.
I grumble under my breath. “Mum, in order for me to be able to leave here, I’d need a car. And to have a car would mean I would need to be able to actually drive the thing. I can’t afford lessons, and you—”
“And you are almost twenty-one and need to figure that out for yourself.” Dad’s tone has dropped.
I give a slight nod of my head, knowing he’s right, even though in my heart it feels different somehow.
“There are buses you can catch into town; you don’t need to have a car.” Mum wipes her mouth with her napkin, and Holly sits up straighter in her chair, making me look her way. I almost forgot she was here.
