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

which meant there probably wouldn’t have been any grounds to contest the will. When I’d offered Dad a proportion of what I’d been left, he refused. “She adored you love,” he had said. “And it was you who took care of her when she was ill, not us. She wanted you to have it. It’s rightfully yours.”

“I’m OK Dad. Mum’s taking Jack to school.” I’m not lying, am I? “Jack was delighted when she arrived last night.”

“That’s nice dear. It makes me feel better. I’m rattling around the house, here on my own, but I’ll be used to it in a day or two. It’s a shame I couldn’t have come over with your mother.”

“Oh, Dad.” I rock myself gently back and forth on the swing. I wish he could come and stay. At least he genuinely wants to spend time with us. He’s still got work commitments though and is still a few years away from retirement. Plus, Mum will have thought of a reason why he couldn’t have come over. “Are you not working today?”

“Yes. Soon. I didn’t sleep so well last night. I never do when your mum’s not here.”

“But you have your own rooms, don’t you; it shouldn’t be too much different?”

“I’m not a fan of being on my own in the house.”

I feel the weight of responsibility and I hope to goodness Mum’s affair doesn’t last much longer. That Dad never discovers it. He’s still fragile and sounds even more so today. He’s like this whenever Mum goes away, but he bounces back.

“Sorry love.” My silence must give away my awkwardness. “I shouldn’t lay this on you. I’ll be fine. It’s great that you and Jack can spend some time with your mother. One of these days, I promise I’ll make it over to stay with her. I’m sure you can make room in that big house of yours.”

“Course I can Dad.” I wonder, for a moment, if Dad is getting at something with the big house reference. But I doubt it. Mum has made me paranoid. I stand from the swing and busy myself dead-heading the flowerbeds as I wander around the perimeter of the garden. “Isn’t it gorgeous today?” I look into the sky, hoping that shifting his focus to the sunshine will cheer Dad up. I want to ask if he’s still on the antidepressants, if he’s got anyone he can talk to, but I know he’ll never open up to me. After all, I’ve had my own ghosts to fight. And still have.

When Dad took his overdose, he was deeply ashamed and would never discuss it with me – I’m relieved that I persuaded him to continue with the counselling. The hospital which had pumped his stomach referred him. I know he’s got stuff stemming from his own childhood – something to do with his dad, something he’d not forgiven his mother for. I never got to the bottom of that though. I’ll mention it to him again, one of these days. I’m dying to know what this family secret is. Even Mum doesn’t seem to know.

“It sure is. I might even have a beer in the garden when I get home later. Invite Dave around.”

“That’s more like it.” I laugh. “Beer on a Monday.” I don’t drink anymore, thank God. I’m free of it. This is something that I don’t discuss with Dad. Secrets and lies keep the cogs of our family spinning.

“Though Dave will probably be busy.” His voice is downbeat again. “What are your plans today? Are you doing something nice with your mum?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll see what she says when she gets back.” In two weeks, I feel like adding, but I never would. I pray I can talk Rob around from his current stance on the situation. Dad would take it really badly.

After saying goodbye to Dad, I wander around the garden, dead-heading the plants in the hanging baskets now, before padding barefoot back into the house. I catch sight of my reflection in the hallway mirror. I’ve lost weight since I stopped drinking and my face is less puffy.

I’m trying to make more effort with my appearance again, wearing a bit of make-up, that sort of thing – not that Rob notices anymore. All he seems to care about is his life away from the house. His work, the golf course, getting out on his bike with his cycling friends – getting away from me no doubt. And now he thinks I’m even more pathetic because I can’t stand up to my mother.

I don’t know if there’s anything I should know about Bryony. When I saw them together, it all looked platonic, but that was only one sighting of them. There’s no denying either that he’s gone cool on me lately. My gut is saying it should worry me.

I move things around in the kitchen and dining room, sliding pots into the dishwasher and wiping the sides down. The house is pretty clean; I bottomed it as soon as I discovered my mother was coming, whilst preparing the Sunday dinner at the same time. I don’t know why I had bothered; Rob had been nearly two hours late back for it. I see his phone flash on the side. It’s unusual for him to have left his phone behind, very unusual.

Incoming Call – Bryony. I’m sorely tempted to answer it, but something stops me. Maybe ignorance is bliss. I can’t get into his phone, but I can see the notifications on his lock screen. He has missed three calls from her. What’s going on? Prior to meeting his first wife Denise, he was engaged to Bryony. They were together for several years. But that was such a long time ago.

Speak of the devil. There’s a message from Denise, sent just after seven this morning. Thanks for letting Simone down yet again, it begins. You should try watching a ten-year-old waiting for her da- then it cuts off. The phone needs unlocking to