Chapter 6: Dinner with a Friend

Goodness me." As my mother reached the living room, I could hear that she was trying to inject a little more warmth into her own tone. "What a lot of cards."

There were quite a few, I had to admit as my gaze followed hers to the mantelpiece. Thanks to Alice, of course, who'd been dropping hints to all and sundry for weeks. There was even one there from the postman who delivered to the shop.

"Twenty-five, eh?" I heard Dad say. "Our little girl, all grown up."

I winced again, wishing he hadn't felt the need to state the obvious. There was no question all three of us were now thinking exactly the same thing. "Oh, I'm not sure about that," I said breezily. "I don't think I'll ever grow—"

Bollocks,no...

How could I have given voice to the first thing that came into my head? "So," I squeaked, doing an abrupt one-eighty. "You enjoyed your holiday, then?"

"Yes, thank you," Mum said as though she hadn't noticed—though I knew she had. "Though it was very warm." She glanced up at my father. "Too warm really. I don't think we'd go there again."

"No." Dad shook his head in agreement. "Nice to say we've actually been to the Caribbean, though. Now, come on." He pointed at my present. "Aren't you going to open it?"

With fingers that suddenly felt like sausages, I started peeling back the pink floral paper, my heart sinking as the wrappings fell away. It was an ornately decorated wooden photo frame, a painted swirl of Hibiscus flowers circling the oval-shaped mount. The sort of photo frame one might use for a picture of a loved one or a child. The sort of photo frame for which I currently had no use at all.

"It's lovely," I said, attempting to relay just the right amount of fake enthusiasm. "Really pretty."

"It is, isn't it?" Mum agreed. "I hoped you'd like it as well."

As well. The moment she said the words, I knew she'd bought one for herself. And I could already guess whose portrait would be beaming out from the garish frame. Taking pride of place on her mantelpiece...

"Well, I s'pose we'd better be off," I heard Dad say as I carefully set my gift down on the coffee table, his voice sounding strangely far off considering he was standing next to me. "Don't want to hold you up."

"Oh. Right." Turning in time to witness him giving my mother another nudge, I experienced a surge of guilty relief. "No. I'll have to go in a minute."

"Where are you going, anyway?" he asked while I shepherded them back out into the hall. "Somewhere nice, I hope?"

Damn. He'd had to ask. "Out to dinner," I said, then added lightly, "with a friend."

"Oh, that's nice." On the doorstep, Dad bent to plant a kiss on my cheek. "Well, happy birthday again, sweetheart. Have a lovely evening."

"Which friend?"

I should've known that Mum wouldn't let me get away with such a vague reply. For a split second, I considered lying. "Well..."

But I was saved from answering. Upon seeing the approaching headlights of a car, all three of us turned and watched as a familiar dark Audi pulled up behind Dad's Volvo.

"Oh." Mum looked disappointed. "You're going out withhim."

"Yes." I sent an apologetic glance in Drew's direction as he got out and closed the door, biting my lip when he raised a hand in acknowledgement. "Is that a problem?"

"No, of course not." Having audibly bristled at the challenge in my tone, she dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "I just thought you might have had a date, that's all."

Or rather, she wished I had, that's what she meant. I was such a disappointment of a daughter. But before I could think of a suitably scathing reply, Drew was heading down the drive towards us, smiling as though he had no idea of the nature of the welcome awaiting him. I knew otherwise. These encounters were always the same—part of the reason I'd hoped against hope that my parents would leave before he arrived.

"Drew," my father said congenially. "Good to see you, my boy."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mum wince. Well done, Dad. Off to a truly excellent start...

"Great to see you too," Drew said easily, his smile broadening. "So did you have a good time on the cruise? You're looking very brown there, June, I have to say. It suits you."

"Oh, do you think?" Raising a hand to her cheek, she gave a startled laugh, clearly unnerved by the flattery. "Thank you. Though to be honest, it was too hot out there for me. And very humid..."

I found I was only half-listening as she began to prattle on about their trip, instead watching how she looked at Drew, the way she scanned his face, appraised the length of his body, the clothes he was wearing, the way his hair was styled. And the rest of us knew what she was doing, even if she didn't. Making endless comparisons. Speculating about a future that would never be. Formulating a thousand and one hypotheses, all based on a common theme.

I wonder how our Paul would've turned out...

I'd dared to hope it would get better eventually. That time was indeed a great healer—wasn't that what everyone said? Instead, for some aspects of her grief, the reverse appeared to be true. And with every passing year, this part was definitely getting worse. Drew was growing older, twenty-seven now. He'd had the chance to become a man, to have a career, have a life.

My brother had died, aged twenty.

"Well," Dad cut in, at last catching one of my increasingly desperate glances, "we really ought to get going so that these two can be on their way." He raised a brow at Drew. "I hope you're taking her somewhere nice."

Drew grinned. "Absolutely. Burger King or McDonald's. I'm leaving the choice entirely up to Sam."

I could've kissed him for the flippancy of his reply. "But you promised I could have a KFC!" I whined, pretending to pout.

It worked. Judging by the expression on my mother's face, she thought we were serious. And why wouldn't she? It struck me that she'd never have believed that my late brother's best friend was prepared to take me to the poshiest hotel in Stow Newton for a night of unbridled passion.