Read Online Bye Bye Love by Patricia Burns - Free Book Online Page A

there was sure to be something,’ she said, returning to her original topic of conversation, ‘but with this one it’s everything. To start with, his timekeeping’s useless. I don’t think he knows how to tell the time. When you tell him he’s late, he gives you that daft vague look of his and says, “Oh, is it that already?” as if he’s no idea. I could kill him, I really could.’
    Jonathan ate his own toast, a feeling of doom settling uneasily in his stomach. She was talking about Scarlett’s dad again. What if they gave him the boot? What if he and Scarlett then moved somewhere the other end of the country? It would be terrible.
    ‘He does know how to keep the beers,’ his father said, swigging down his tea. ‘I’ll give him that. Trouble is, he’s too darn fussy. Throws stuff away! I caught him getting rid of nearly a gallon yesterday. Said it wasn’t good enough. “It’s good enough for our customers,” I told him. “They’re not here to taste the quality, they’re here to get pissed. You mix that in with the next lot and it’ll be quite all right. They won’t notice anything wrong with it at all.” You should of seen his face! You’d’ve thought I’d asked him to strangle his grandmother.’
    ‘He was famous for his beers when he had his own place. People used to cycle out from Southend just to drink at his pub,’ Jonathan said.

    Both parents looked at him as if they’d only just realised he was there.
    ‘Who told you that?’ his mother asked. ‘That girl, what’s-her-name?’
    ‘Scarlett,’ Jonathan reminded her, regretting having opened his mouth. He knew just what she was going to say next. And she did.
    ‘Blooming stupid name to give a kid.’
    Jonathan said nothing. He’d already had this argument with his mother several times.
    ‘And you know what I said about her,’ she went on. ‘You’re not to hang about with her. Staff are staff. They’re not for consorting with.’
    She glared at his father as she said it. He took a sudden deep interest in the racing pages of the newspaper.
    Jonathan felt sick. How could she compare what he felt for Scarlett with his father groping the barmaids? But it was no use even trying to explain. She wouldn’t understand.
    ‘You’re far too young to be going around with girls, anyway,’ his mother said. ‘You’ve got plenty of friends, you should be with them, off sailing or something. Who are you watching the carnival with?’
    ‘The gang,’ Jonathan said.
    It was true, he was going with his schoolfriends, but Scarlett was coming along as well. It would be the first time she would see the carnival. They planned to walk along to Westcliff and watch from the cliff gardens.
    ‘Well mind you’re back by seven. We’re going to be chock-a-block here tonight and we’ll need you to collect glasses,’ his father said.
    ‘Yes, right,’ Jonathan agreed.

    Really, they only ever wanted to know where he was when they wanted his help or didn’t approve of who he was with. Most of the time they couldn’t care less. Which was quite useful because ever since that first trip up the pier, he had spent practically every day of the holidays with Scarlett.
    ‘And if you see her—what’s-her-name—Scarlett—you can tell her she can earn some pocket money washing up. Flaming Marlene’s got the gutache so she’ll be no use to us today,’ his mother said.
    ‘Right—I’ll ask her.’
    ‘You’ll tell her. There’s five bob in it for her and I expect her to be there by seven, all right?’
    ‘Yeah, yeah.’
    Much to his surprise, Scarlett was delighted.
    ‘Oh, good, it’ll be nice to earn some money. And if you’re bringing the glasses out we’ll see something of each other.’
    It was a bright summer’s day as they wandered along the sea front towards Westcliff. The crowds were already out, milling around Peter Pan’s Playground, buying their ice creams and candyfloss and spilling onto the beaches to swim and dig and sit in