Hit and Run, Maria Frankland [books like harry potter txt] 📗

feel lousy about it.” I lower onto the side of the bed, beside Mum, staring at the pattern on her blouse. She’s got some nice clothes. Better than what I have. She’s a good-looking woman. It’s a shame she’s not the same on the inside.

“It’s a white lie Fiona. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him? You’re saving him in the long run. And yours and Jack’s relationship with me.” She zips up her suitcase. “Because you realise, that if you betray my trust, I will cut you off again. Forever this time. From your father as well. You know from experience that he will always stand by me.” She pauses and looks momentarily thoughtful. “If he was to succeed next time with the suicide thing, I would more than likely get nothing. No life insurance, no mortgage pay-off, not even his pension. Nothing. If he’s going to find anything out, it will be when I’m ready to tell him, and when he’s ready to know.”

“I can’t believe that you’re referring to what happened as the suicide thing. Nor can I believe you’re so reliant on any money Dad could generate. Do you know Mum, you could always get a job and live your own life? Make your own money. I’d look after Dad. You’ve at least a dozen years of working life left.” I sound like a snob, but I don’t care. I’m sick of her threatening me.

“Like you do, you mean? It’s alright for you, isn’t it?” She points her hairbrush towards my face. For a moment I think she’s going to hit me with it, but instead she stands, towering over me. “With your grandmother’s money that should have been mine, and with your big house and your executive husband. You don’t deserve any of it.”

I will not let her intimidate me. I also stand. “At least I have worked and earned my own money.” I load a confidence into my voice, which I’m not feeling. “Not just what Grandma gave me.”

She grabs me by the scruff of my t-shirt, twisting the neckline around her fist. I can smell the sourness of her breath. “What, you mean at poxy jobs in offices and shops, where you haven’t lasted five minutes?”

“Get your hands off me.”

She lets me go, pushing me backwards. Something within me shifts as I realise she really can’t hurt me anymore. She just thinks she can. I continue staring into her eyeballs. I can’t quite believe she has just grabbed me.

“What have you ever done with your life Fiona?” She’s almost snarling at me now.

“Rob likes me being at home. At least I can look after the house and Jack.”

She leans forward and looks at me as though I am diseased. “If Rob knew what you were really like, he would drop you like a ton of bricks.”

“What do you mean, what I’m really like?” Anger rises in me. She’s always done this. Made me feel like there’s something inwardly awful about me. Ever since I was little. The only thing she’s ever approved of about me is that I brought Jack into the world. Even then, she was grimacing about becoming a grandparent. About appearing old to others. Jack’s always had to call her Granny Maggie, rather than Grandma. Personally, I think Granny sounds older than Grandma anyway. And she didn’t broadcast her new role, like most new grandmothers would. Dad was over the moon. Until the depression got hold of him. He’s done amazingly well coming back from where he was. I can’t let her destroy him again.

At every turn, Mum throws my inheritance in my face. She hated Grandma, her mother-in-law. Even Dad stopped visiting her because Mum gave him such a hard time, calling him a mummy’s boy and accusing him of being tied to Grandma’s apron strings. I was always close to her though. Through my childhood, it was Grandma who came to school plays and sports days. I remember her staying up half the night to sew my costume for a fancy dress day. Throughout my teens, it was Grandma I ran to when I had a problem or wanted some adult company. She was the one who would tell me it was ‘his loss’ when I got dumped, and would be proud of me if I got good grades.

“Mum. Where’s my book bag? I need to learn my spellings before school.” Jack’s voice hollers from the landing. “What’s up?” He looks at me with concern as I swing the door open.

Even at seven, he can always read when there is something amiss with me. I thank my lucky stars every day that Jack and I have such a strong bond. Now that I’m a mother myself, I can’t understand my mother’s lifelong rejection and contempt for me. Occasionally she can be OK, it all depends on what sort of mood she’s in. Whenever she is having an affair, she’s usually nicer than this.

“You should have learned them last night Jack.” I try to inject a sternness into my voice. “It’s a good job you’re up early, isn’t it? It’s under your PE bag in the hallway.” I point towards the stairs. “Look at them whilst you finish your breakfast.” It’s my fault really that he hasn’t learned them yet. I let him spend time with his gran last night, given that her visit is so fleeting, and he doesn’t see much of her.

“Will do Mum. Morning Granny Maggie.” He hurtles downstairs without waiting for a response.

“Look Fiona.” Mum slides her feet into her shoes. God knows how she drives wearing heels like that. “I don’t want to leave things on a bad note. I’ll try to get back here on my way home.”

“When?”

“In a couple of weeks.”

I close the bedroom door. “But what am I supposed to say to Dad when he rings here?”

“The usual. Tell him I’m in the bath, or that I’ve gone for a walk. You’ll think of something. You always do.”

“Thanks for putting