Page 42 of A Cornish Love Story
‘Three teas?’ Mum shouted up, and my grin turned into laughter.
‘Yes please,’ I called down, and Ethan winced. I leaned up and kissed him. ‘I think we have been well and truly busted.’
‘Getting your homework done?’ Mum asked innocently when, ten minutes later, we strolled into the kitchen, aiming for nonchalant. ‘Hello Ethan, lovely to see you.’
‘You too, Mrs Monroe. Have you had a good day?’
‘I got some nice things at the market.’ She pointed to her shopping bags, contents spilling onto the kitchen counter. ‘And please call me Lisa.’
‘Thanks, Lisa.’
She handed him a steaming mug of tea, then passed me one. ‘I got some fish pie bits. Thought I could make that for us tonight. Ethan, there’ll be enough for three, if you fancy staying?’
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I nodded. ‘I’d love to,’ he said, ‘but only if I can help.’
Mum tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘You’re a guest,’ she said, but it was a weak protest.
‘I can peel potatoes,’ Ethan suggested, and when Mum accepted, he shot me a wink and then listened patiently to her instructions about where the peeler was and how many we would need to cover the filling.
The kitchen was barely big enough for two, but the three of us worked around each other. I sorted Mum’s pills into their relevant organizer boxes at the table, while she and Ethan constructed a fish pie, talking through the stages together, Ethan suggesting horseradish mashfor the top. Mum was in a good mood, her tremors not as pronounced as they often were, and I wanted to take a snapshot: the two most important people in my life getting along.
‘Georgie, I bought a box of chocolates,’ Mum said. ‘Can you see if I’ve left them in my handbag?’
‘Sure.’ I tidied up the pill boxes, putting the instruction leaflets in the green clip in the drawer, and went to find Mum’s bag in the hallway. I rifled through it, but there were no chocolates in there – unless they were chocolates for Borrowers. My hand brushed a plastic bag, and I pulled it out, my stomach twisting as I realized what it was.
‘Found them, Georgie?’ Mum called.
I cleared my throat. ‘Still looking!’
It wasn’t a secret that some MS sufferers used weed to lessen the symptoms, and I wasn’t wholly against it. But after Mum’s last consultation, the doctor had made it clear that any unprescribed drugs could impact the success of the trial she was on. I felt sick, wondering why she’d got hold of some now, but not sure how to confront her. I wanted to talk to Ethan about it. He would know what to do, or – at the very least – he would make me feel better about whateverIdecided to do. I didn’t hear his phone ring, but I heard the pad of his footsteps, out of the kitchen and into our living room, ducking away before he reached me.
‘Hey,’ he said, his voice reaching me easily. ‘What?’ His tone sharpened, and the pit in my stomach gnawed. ‘No. Sarah, I can’t.’
There was a pause, and I slid the plastic packet back into Mum’s bag, resting my head against the wall of coats.
‘I’m busy right now, but …’ A sharp inhale. ‘Youbrokeit? You said it was the wing mirror. A broken window doesn’t happen unless you chuck abrickthrough it, Sarah! Fuck.’ A shorter pause, and I could sense our perfect evening slipping away. ‘No, you know what Dad will say.’ Ethan’s laugh was humourless. ‘OK, give me tenminutes. Don’t do or say anything, and don’t leave. I’m serious. Yeah. Yes, I know. Bye.’
He walked out into the hall, his hair a mess of tugged strands. He was rubbing the back pocket of his jeans, where he’d kept his cigarettes until I’d asked him to quit.
‘That didn’t sound good,’ I said tentatively.
‘I have to go. Sarah’s got herself in trouble, and I—’
‘You’re going to bail her out?’
‘I’m sorry. I have to.’
‘I know.’ I smiled, even though I was angry that he was running straight to her. But she was clearly unhappy, and from what Ethan had told me their mum wasn’t that sympathetic; too afraid of their father to stand up to him on Sarah’s behalf. I just wished Ethan didn’t have to take on all the responsibility.
He ran his hands down my arms and leaned in to kiss me, the gentle goodbye turning into something hotter. He groaned, low and frustrated, then went to make his apologies to Mum.
I waved him off at the door, then watched hissilhouette against the sunset, his shoulders hunched as he hurried away from me. I could hear the waves hitting the sand in the bay, the tide just reaching its highest point, and the seaside scents of slowly cooking fish enveloped me. A special treat of a dinner that we couldn’t afford very often.Especially not if Mum was buying weed, a little voice reminded me.
I shut the door and went to join her. She was pushing mashed potato onto the steaming pie mix, an open jar of horseradish on the counter, a dollop sliding down the side of the cabinet.
‘You need to watch that,’ Mum said without turning around.
‘I can clean it up.’ I grabbed the cloth.
