The Things I Know(69)

‘And your clever girl too.’ Grayson eyed her across the table, as if reading her thoughts. ‘Did you not want to go to college, Thomasina?’

‘Not really. I didn’t do too well at school.’

‘Well, no, lots of people don’t, but then they pick up education later in life, when they’re ready.’

She was aware of the current of heightened awareness that now flowed between her parents and knew it was possible they might take his candid observation as a slight on the choices they had made on her behalf.

‘Maybe I haven’t been ready until now.’ She spoke softly, letting the suggestion creep over all assembled like warm water on ice, allowing the slow thaw of realisation that things for her were changing.

‘Maybe you haven’t,’ Grayson acknowledged.

‘Jonathan was born ready, wasn’t he, Pops? We all miss him.’ She steered the topic into less choppy waters but, in truth, Grayson’s words had planted a seed in her thoughts.

‘I look forward to meeting him,’ Grayson replied, and her heart soared. This meant a plan: someday when he would meet her brother.

The back door now banged open against the wall. In walked Emery in an oversized parka, wet with rain, a grubby cap on his head. He filled the space with his presence and his bulk, carrying the scent of dirt and diesel, enough to put a large dent in Thomasina’s appetite. She watched as he shrugged himself free of the coat, caring little that he showered droplets over the floor and sideboard. He lobbed his cap on the side, scratching his scalp with his fingernails as he turned to look over the table.

‘Well, this looks nice. A little dinner party. Not interrupting, am I?’

‘’Course not, lad!’ Her dad, sweet as ever, smiled and shifted his chair to one side. ‘Go and fetch an extra seat from the parlour and come and eat!’

Her mum stood, grabbed a plate from the rack above the sink and began loading it up with slices of lamb and all the trimmings.

‘Mr Potts! Didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Couldn’t keep away, eh?’ Emery asked with an air of sarcasm as he went to fetch the stool.

Grayson gave a brief nod and did not invite the man to call him by his first name. Thomasina noticed the change in atmosphere and felt her stomach shrink. She wished this meal could continue with the chat and warmth, as before. She knew her dad and Grayson would have bonded over a beer while the excitement for all that lay ahead bubbled beneath the questions and the storytelling.

And now her cousin had spoiled it.

Emery came back, thumped the seat down next to her dad and sat down hard, as her mum put the plate in front of him.

‘I don’t know – leave for five minutes and someone’s in my seat!’ he almost shouted, but without the smile or laugh that suggested this was in jest.

‘Now you know how my brother feels,’ Thomasina muttered.

Her dad gave her a stern look, while her mum asked quickly, ‘More gravy, anyone?’ as if this sauce-led diversion might be enough to quash the exchange that threatened.

‘Oh, still having a go at me, are you?’ This time Emery did laugh.

‘Come on now, you two!’ her mum tutted playfully, as if she were addressing kids. Thomasina wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d threatened to bang their heads together, and her mum’s manner irritated her.

‘I’m not having a go at you, Emery, just speaking the truth.’

‘This lamb is lovely,’ her dad said, wrinkling his eyes at his wife in a kindly smile.

Emery chewed his food. ‘Seems like the dog has found her bark, or should I say the rabbit her squeak.’

Thomasina winced at his deliberate and cruel rabbit reference and felt her pulse race as her face coloured.

Her dad put his cutlery down hard and stared challengingly at his nephew, chewing his food quickly, seemingly trying to finish his mouthful so he could speak, but it was Grayson who spoke up first. He laid his cutlery across his plate.

‘Please don’t speak to her like that.’

‘What?’ Emery held his fork still.

‘I said, please don’t speak to her like that.’

‘Oh, I see what’s happening: the dweebs are forming a tag team. Change Purse and Hitch – sounds like a bad country-and-western duo.’ He laughed again.

‘I’d . . . I’d rather you didn’t call me Change Purse, and I know Thomasina wants to be called by her real name. Everyone else seems to manage it.’

‘How about I couldn’t give a shit what you do or don’t want!’ Emery flashed, and she saw her dad sit back in his chair, his jaw tense and his eyes narrow.

Her mum froze.

‘All right, Emery. That’s quite enough – you don’t talk like that, not to anyone in this house! This is the dinner table and a lovely meal has been prepared and I will not have it spoiled.’ Mr Waycott banged the table.

‘Don’t tell me that, tell him,’ Emery said, jabbing his fork in Grayson’s direction. ‘That lanky moron . . .’ he muttered under his breath.

‘I said, enough!’ Pops yelled.

Grayson stood suddenly and the table jarred, the water glasses slopping their contents and gravy sloshing from the edge of the plates.

‘Good Lord!’ her mum gasped, raising her hand to her throat.

‘I think you and I need to go and talk outside,’ Grayson said.