Read Online Welcome to the Real World by Carole Matthews - Free Book Online

neck and shake him? 'Did you go and see Mum today?'

    'Hello, darlin',' my dad says, pulling up a stool. 'I'm fine, thank you. How are you today?'

    I ignore his jibe. 'Well, did you?'

    'Yes.' He sighs.

    Pouring a pint of beer, I put it down in front of him, noticing that he offers me no money in return. I also notice that this isn't his first drink of the evening.

    'Hi, Mr Kendal,' Carl says. 'Derek.'

    I don't like to tell Carl that my dad is only 'Derek' to him when he's being bought double whiskies.

    'Hello, lad,' Dad returns in a slightly slurred voice, looking relieved to see at least one friendly face. My guess is that he's been in some other hostelry since lunchtime. So much for him changing his ways.

    I'll not be swayed from my interrogation. 'And?'

    He hangs his head. 'I'll be making use of your couch again tonight.'

    I tut at him. 'You are hopeless.'

    'Love, I tried my best. She's not a well woman,' he says after he's drained half of his drink. 'I can't understand what's wrong with her.'

    I polish some glasses with a certain amount of venom. If only it was as easy to rub some sense into my most annoying parent. 'She's had enough of you, that's what's wrong.'

    He tips the rest of his beer down his throat in two gulps and then slams his glass down onto the bar.

    'Fuck,' my dad says suddenly and rather loudly. 'Fuck it all.' Both Carl and I jump. My father might be a lot of things, but he's not normally a potty mouth. We both look at him in astonishment.

    'Dad.'

    'I'm fucking sick of it,' he continues in the same vein. He's now starting to wave his arms in an aggressive manner. Ken the Landlord straightens up and pays attention. I give him the eye to say that everything will be okaywhich I'm sincerely hoping it will be. He's used to closing-time fights in the King's Head, but it doesn't mean to say that he likes them any better. 'I've tried my naffing bloody best all my life and what for?'

    I decide not to point out that Dad's best isn't really anything to shout about.

    'Well, fuck her.' Dad is in full flow. 'Fucking, fuck her.'

    His voice is rising with every 'fuck'. People are starting to look. Even people who normally make no distinction between this pub and the building site.

    'I don't know what to do. So she can fuck off. She can fuck off and make her own life. Without me.'

    'Dad,' I grumble. 'Lower your voice. And stop swearing. You sound like you've got Tourette's syndrome.'

    'Tourette's?' Dad brightens. I can almost see the light-bulb ping on above his head. 'I wonder if she'd take me back if I was ill?'

Fourteen

    'H ow's she working out?'
    Evan turned to his agent, Rupert, as he fiddled with his tie in an effort to stop the knot from lying crookedly. 'Who?'

    'Your new assistant. Fern.' Rupert had been waiting for him for ages.

    'Oh. Fine,' he said dismissively.

    'But she didn't remind you about the dinner tonight?'

    'No,' Evan had to concede. Perhaps Fern wasn't working out too well. It had completely slipped his mind that he was attending a reception with the Blairs at Downing Street. That wouldn't have gone down too well if he'd missed an important party with the prime minister of England. If she'd done her job properly and jogged his memory, then he wouldn't have embarrassed himself by asking Fern out to dinner. 'I think I distracted her.'

    'And would you like to tell me how?'

    'Not really.'

    The last thing Evan wanted his agent to know about was his rather gauche approach to his new assistant. Rupert usually had more than enough to worry about without Evan adding to it.

    Evan was even less likely to confess that since this afternoon he hadn't been able to stop thinking about Fern. It had been a shock to him to see the way that she had responded so honestly to the music today, but rather a pleasant shock. Perhaps he'd been in this business too long, but the music somehow failed to move him like that any longer. It was clearly the first time she'd heard opera at close proximity,