That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(31)

“God, don’t speak another word about it! I swear that call was complete f*cking shite,” I seethe with a scathing glance over my shoulder. “I could spit just thinking about it! I very nearly got that referee sacked, ya know.”

“Don’t spit! We’re making pancakes!” Booker laughs, “You did get the bloke suspended, though.”

“Well, he was rubbish!” I exclaim as I turn and toss the spatula into the sink.

“See what I mean? You’re passionate about something that happened to me, and you’re not even a coach or a teammate. You don’t even play football yourself. You’re just my sister.”

I nod thoughtfully. He makes a pretty good point. “Maybe I just don’t make good first impressions.”

Cutting his eyes at me speculatively, he asks, “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

I shrug. “I just…I met this bloke that’s sort of a friend of a friend and I don’t know. I thought we hit it off, but then he got all awkward and his description of me just leaves me feeling a bit…poorly.”

“What did he say?” Booker’s brow furrows.

I squint and look up at the ceiling, hoping I’m quoting him right. “A beautiful, bright, bubbly, blonde distraction.”

Booker’s face freezes, as do his hands on the berries. “I want his f*cking name.”

“Stop, Book. You’re supposed to be different.”

“I’m not messing about, Vi. He needs to be talked to. Only two of those adjectives are relevant. The other two are utter codswallop. You are so much more than those things.”

“I know. Just calm down. I think we’re just friends anyway.” Or at least that’s what I’m trying to decide. I’m not sure I can handle being with Hayden.

Booker shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a great idea to be mates with the bloke, Vi. Especially one who obviously has his head up his arse.”

I hear voices in the hall and quickly shush Booker just as Camden, Tanner, Gareth, and our dad come strolling in, laughing heartily about something.

“My Vi,” Dad says loudly, coming around the counter and scooping me up into a big bear hug while rubbing his scruffy chin on my cheek. Vaughn Harris is legendary status in the world of English football. But to me, he’s just the guy who sneaks a sausage before it’s time to eat. He’s wearing his usual Bethnel Green polo with cream trousers, looking the picture of a man who lives his passion. His salt and pepper whiskers cover his chin and match his greying hair perfectly. “Happy birthday, my darling.”

“Oi! Let go of me, Dad,” I giggle and squirm out of his embrace, rubbing the area that he purposefully whisker-burned.

“Oh, happy birthday, my darling,” Tanner coos in a high-pitched voice mimicking the Queen.

“Do just look at her, Tanner,” Camden starts in a high, nasally tone and claps his hands together in adoration. “She’s got her boobies. Our little girl has gone and got her boobies now that she’s all grown up.”

Gareth roars with laughter as Tanner picks up where Cam left off. He grabs two lemons out of the bowl on the table and holds them to his chest saying, “Oh, fiddle fettle, she won’t fit in the beach ball jumper I got her for her birthday. She’ll look like a proper tart!”

“Shut it, you prats!” I exclaim, rushing over and shoving them hard while giving Gareth a swift kick for laughing. Camden grabs my wrists and restrains me as I continue throwing kicks at Tanner who’s wresting to grab my ankles.

“Enough,” Dad says, his husky voice booming. “The pancakes are going to burn.”

Shaking my head, I eye him like a petulant child. “You raised them,” I jokingly accuse.

“That’s debatable,” he replies, grinning proudly. “I could smell the sausage from outside. It looks great, darling.” He dips his finger into the batter and licks it, closing his eyes appreciatively.

“It’s almost ready,” I reply. “Cam…Tan…Why don’t you two stop being little sods and make yourselves useful by setting the table.”

In no time, we’re sitting down at the high-top table and devouring the feast of pancakes, sausages, fresh fruit, and jam. I am certain we are all probably internally musing over what they would taste like if our mum actually made them for us…just once.





BOX OF SECRETS


Hunched over the workshop counter, I rub the sanding block against the dark Philippine mahogany, smoothing the surface and wiping away the excess sawdust. With every touch, I grow more and more excited about the fact that I’m nearly finished with the final one. It feels good working with my hands. It’s therapeutic. In the past I’ve only worked on the books and the appointment side of Theo’s business, C. Designs. Theo’s talents cannot be disputed, but I’ve since found that I too have some abilities I wasn’t even aware of.

Theo comes strolling into the workshop. “Hey…Marisa just went down, so I think Leslie and I are going to turn in early. She’s knackered from all the wedding shite. Are you making more?” he asks, gesturing to the keepsake box in my hands.

“Uh…yeah,” I look down awkwardly, rubbing my hands down my navy T-shirt covered in sawdust. My tattered work jeans don’t look much better. It’s been three days since I last saw Vi and instead of calling her like I want to, I’ve been keeping myself preoccupied.