Read Online The Rose Petal Beach by Dorothy Koomson - Free Book Online

pouting.The oldest of us three children – a man in his late twenties – and he still had it in him to pout.
    ‘You can share mine,’ I told him, pushing the splayed open white paper towards him. ‘I’ve said you can share mine.’ Once every few weeks we had a family lunch where we all pretended that we hadn’t deeply disappointed our parents in different ways – me with the university thing, Genevieve with the eloping to get married in Las Vegas thing, and Sarto with the taking his time to finish medical school thing. Genevieve and I came over (Sarto
still
lived there), and usually Mum cooked. Today, not long after Genevieve got there, she had said she would take care of the meal. We’d stared at her in amazement that she was going to cook. She, in return, gave us all scathing ‘as if’ looks and went to the chippy. Returning without any chips for Sarto.
    ‘That’s not the point, though, is it?’ Sarto complained. ‘My sister goes to the shop and comes back with food for everyone except me. What am I supposed to think about that? I’m a man, I should be served, not forgotten.’
    I turned my laugh into a cough, knowing that was probably why Genevieve had done it. The things he said often brought out the radical feminist in her: I simply ignored him, which actually bugged him more than trying to get one over on him.
    ‘Silly me,’ Genevieve simpered. ‘Silly female me. Never mind, next time you should send a man to the chip shop and maybe he’d remember how superior you are to every woman on Earth.’
    ‘When will you learn, dear sister, I’m not superior to every woman on earth, I’m superior to everyone on earth.’
    The doorbell interrupted us. All eyes automatically turned to me, because I was the youngest and answering the door, washing up, doing whatever the others would have me do was my role. I focused on my chips, using a fork and my fingers to scoop them onto the waiting plate. Scott’s reaction to the news I was pregnant was still smarting two hours later, I wasn’t about to let myself be pushed around by this lot, too.
    Ding-dong
, the doorbell chimed again. I licked oil off my fingers and reached nonchalantly for the tomato ketchup and salad cream.
    ‘This family is out of order,’ Sarto said, pushing out his chair and stomping to the door. ‘You’re all out of order.’
    Genevieve smirked and I smiled to myself. Poor Sarto was really feeling it today. ‘Tam-
mia
!’ he called a few seconds later. ‘Door.’
    The way he said my name told me who it was. I couldn’t quite believe he had the audacity to show up knowing most people didn’t welcome his type (Challey) round these parts.
    ‘Tam-
mia
!’ Sarto called again, louder this time. ‘Scott Challey’s here to see you.’ He did that to let those at the table know what I was up to, who I was fraternising with. As he guessed it would, his pronouncement caused everyone to look at me, blinking in shock.
    ‘A Challey?’ Dad said quietly.
    ‘Here?’ Mum said just as quietly.
    Genevieve did not speak, she simply pushed the waves of her long, black hair off her face and glared at me until I met her eye. Her expression softened from shock into deep, sorrowful disappointment.
Has this been going on since you were twelve?
she was asking me silently.
    ‘Don’t let Sarto eat all my chips,’ I said to fill the hole that shock had blasted into the room. ‘I only said he could have some of them, not all of them.’
    ‘I’ll guard them with my very life,’ Genevieve replied, now unable to even look in my direction. She had joined my parents in feeling disappointed in me. She had no idea how disappointed I actually felt in myself – becoming involved with someone I knew I shouldn’t have and discovering after I’d fallen in love, had become pregnant, that he wasn’t the person I thought he was after all.
    With their eyes on me, I stood shakily and left.
    While I grabbed my coat, Sarto muttered darkly, ‘Your lunch is waiting.