a smile because he asked me what was up.
I shook my head. ‘Nothing. It’s just about afriend of mine. How are you, anyway?’
‘All the better for seeing you. Anyone tell you you’ve got lovely eyes?’
‘What a line,’ I said, though I was dead pleased.
‘So where d’you live, then?’
I told him and he puffed out his cheeks. ‘Blimey. I don’t know how I’d get over there.’
So you
are
thinking about it, I thought. ‘It’s difficult without a car,’ I said casually.
‘And even if I got trains or something, how would I get home?’ He looked me straight in the eye and added, ‘Unless I stayed the night, of course.’
I felt myself going red and was quite relieved when my taxi squealed round the corner. ‘Bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?’ I said.
‘Yeah. Maybe.’ And then his eyes lit up and he smiled a really sexy smile. ‘Doesn’t hurt to ask though, does it?’
My taxi driver dropped me off outside my flats as usual later that afternoon (‘You mind what you get up to at the weekend with those boyfriends of yours!’) and with Jack slung round my hip, I climbed the stairs up to our flat. Another weekend with sod all to do. Something to dream about, though: Jon and whathe’d said. It made me feel all funny just thinking about it…
Witch’s Brew was just coming down the stairs. ‘Lots going on in your flat today,’ she said, patting Jack on the head.
Oh-oh, I thought: Ellie on the doorstep snogging again.
‘People coming… people going,’ she went on.
‘What d’you mean? Who’s coming and going?’
But she was trotting along the walkway to her own flat. ‘You’ll find out,’ she said.
I watched her disappear, wondering what she was going on about. Maybe Ellie had asked loads of kids from school along for a video or something. Well, if she had they could all go home again.
I walked along to the flat. There was no noisy chatter, though, no loud music. Opening the door, I saw that Ellie’s jacket and bag weren’t there, so she wasn’t even home.
Maybe old Witch’s Brew was going a bit batty, I thought, and then I heard Mum’s voice from the bedroom. ‘No, over here!’ she was saying, and laughing.
I just opened my mouth to bellow ‘Mum!’ and ask her what she was doing home, when I heard a man’s voice.
‘Really!’ he said. ‘At your age!’ and then there was more laughter.
‘Lo!’ Jack called, hearing his gran. I just stood there, mouth open and gawping. Mum and a man.
In her bedroom
. What was going on?
Chapter Eight
I stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. Then I put down Jack and everything else and went back to open and close the front door again loudly so they’d know someone was home. Jack, seizing his opportunity, staggered into the kitchen and went straight for his favourite cupboard.
Crash
! I heard, as something hit the floor.
From the bedroom, Mum called, ‘Is that you, Megan?’
‘Yes!’ I called back.
I heard the murmur of voices, and then a man said, ‘Well, the sooner she gets used to it, the better.’
A tingle ran down my back. I didn’t like the sound of that.
The bedroom opened and Mum appeared. She didn’t look as if she’d just got out of bed or anything – she always looked neat and tidy whatever the occasion – but she did look a bit pink. ‘Everything all right?’ she asked me.
‘Fine,’ I said, and then I just looked at her, waiting. Past her, reflected in the mirror on her dressing table, I could see a man wearing a dark suit.
‘Well, if your mother’s not going to introduce me, I’d better do it myself!’ a jovial voice said. The door opened wider and he stepped forward. He was short and quite squatty, with hair combed over a bald patch and a pale, freckled complexion. ‘I’m George,’ he said. ‘George Simpson. I daresay your mum’s told you about me.’
I shook my head slowly. ‘No. No, she hasn’t.’
‘There hasn’t really been the time, George,’ Mum said, smiling up at
I shook my head. ‘Nothing. It’s just about afriend of mine. How are you, anyway?’
‘All the better for seeing you. Anyone tell you you’ve got lovely eyes?’
‘What a line,’ I said, though I was dead pleased.
‘So where d’you live, then?’
I told him and he puffed out his cheeks. ‘Blimey. I don’t know how I’d get over there.’
So you
are
thinking about it, I thought. ‘It’s difficult without a car,’ I said casually.
‘And even if I got trains or something, how would I get home?’ He looked me straight in the eye and added, ‘Unless I stayed the night, of course.’
I felt myself going red and was quite relieved when my taxi squealed round the corner. ‘Bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?’ I said.
‘Yeah. Maybe.’ And then his eyes lit up and he smiled a really sexy smile. ‘Doesn’t hurt to ask though, does it?’
My taxi driver dropped me off outside my flats as usual later that afternoon (‘You mind what you get up to at the weekend with those boyfriends of yours!’) and with Jack slung round my hip, I climbed the stairs up to our flat. Another weekend with sod all to do. Something to dream about, though: Jon and whathe’d said. It made me feel all funny just thinking about it…
Witch’s Brew was just coming down the stairs. ‘Lots going on in your flat today,’ she said, patting Jack on the head.
Oh-oh, I thought: Ellie on the doorstep snogging again.
‘People coming… people going,’ she went on.
‘What d’you mean? Who’s coming and going?’
But she was trotting along the walkway to her own flat. ‘You’ll find out,’ she said.
I watched her disappear, wondering what she was going on about. Maybe Ellie had asked loads of kids from school along for a video or something. Well, if she had they could all go home again.
I walked along to the flat. There was no noisy chatter, though, no loud music. Opening the door, I saw that Ellie’s jacket and bag weren’t there, so she wasn’t even home.
Maybe old Witch’s Brew was going a bit batty, I thought, and then I heard Mum’s voice from the bedroom. ‘No, over here!’ she was saying, and laughing.
I just opened my mouth to bellow ‘Mum!’ and ask her what she was doing home, when I heard a man’s voice.
‘Really!’ he said. ‘At your age!’ and then there was more laughter.
‘Lo!’ Jack called, hearing his gran. I just stood there, mouth open and gawping. Mum and a man.
In her bedroom
. What was going on?
Chapter Eight
I stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. Then I put down Jack and everything else and went back to open and close the front door again loudly so they’d know someone was home. Jack, seizing his opportunity, staggered into the kitchen and went straight for his favourite cupboard.
Crash
! I heard, as something hit the floor.
From the bedroom, Mum called, ‘Is that you, Megan?’
‘Yes!’ I called back.
I heard the murmur of voices, and then a man said, ‘Well, the sooner she gets used to it, the better.’
A tingle ran down my back. I didn’t like the sound of that.
The bedroom opened and Mum appeared. She didn’t look as if she’d just got out of bed or anything – she always looked neat and tidy whatever the occasion – but she did look a bit pink. ‘Everything all right?’ she asked me.
‘Fine,’ I said, and then I just looked at her, waiting. Past her, reflected in the mirror on her dressing table, I could see a man wearing a dark suit.
‘Well, if your mother’s not going to introduce me, I’d better do it myself!’ a jovial voice said. The door opened wider and he stepped forward. He was short and quite squatty, with hair combed over a bald patch and a pale, freckled complexion. ‘I’m George,’ he said. ‘George Simpson. I daresay your mum’s told you about me.’
I shook my head slowly. ‘No. No, she hasn’t.’
‘There hasn’t really been the time, George,’ Mum said, smiling up at
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