Shopaholic and Sister
Page 20

“You know, darling! Internet shopping. I’m bidding on a Ken Hom wok, a pair of candlesticks”—she pulls a flowery notepad out of her pocket and consults it—“oh yes, and a hedge trimmer for Dad. Used only once!”
“eBay is marvelous!” chimes in Janice. “Such fun. Have you used it, Becky?”
“Well… no.”
“Oh, you’d love it,” says Mum at once. “Although I couldn’t get through last night to check on my Portmeirion plates.” She clicks her tongue. “I don’t know what was wrong.”
“The domain servers were probably down,” Janice says knowledgeably. “I’ve been having trouble with my modem all week. Biscuit, Becky?”
I cannot get my head round this. Mum? On eBay? Next she’ll be saying she’s up to level six on Tomb Raider.
“But… you haven’t even got a computer,” I say. “You hate modern technology.”
“Not anymore, love! Janice and I did a course. We’ve gone broadband!” She looks at me seriously. “Let me give you a word of advice, Becky. If you’re going broadband, I’d install a decent firewall.”
OK. This is all wrong. Parents are not supposed to know more about computers than their children. I nod carelessly and take a sip of coffee, trying to hide the fact that I don’t have a clue what a firewall is.
“Jane, it’s ten to twelve,” Janice says cautiously to Mum. “Are you going to…”
“I don’t think so,” Mum says. “You go on.”
“What is it?” I look from face to face. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not!” says Mum, putting down her coffee cup. “It’s just we agreed to go to the Marshalls’ lunch party today, with Janice and Martin. But don’t worry. We’ll send our apologies.”
“Don’t be silly!” I say at once. “You must go. We don’t want to mess up your day.”
There’s a pause.
“Are you sure?” says Mum.
She wasn’t supposed to say that. She was supposed to say, “How could my precious daughter mess up my day?”
“Of course!” I say, in overbright tones. “You go to your lunch party and we’ll have a proper chat later.”
“Well, OK,” says Mum. “If you’re sure.”
“I’ll pop over and get ready,” says Janice. “Lovely to see you back, Becky!”
As she disappears through the kitchen door I look at Dad, who’s still staring out the window, brooding.
“Are you OK, Dad?” I say. “You’ve been really quiet.”
“Sorry,” he says, turning round with a quick smile. “I’m just a little distracted at the moment. Thinking about… a golf match I’ve got next week. Very important.” He mimes playing a putt.
“Right,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.
But inside I feel more and more uneasy. He’s not really thinking about golf. Why is he so cagey?
What is going on?
“So…” I say lightly. “Who was that I saw you with earlier? That woman you were with.”
It’s like I’ve let off a gunshot or something. Mum and Dad are both paralyzed. I can see their eyes darting toward each other, then looking away again. They both look totally panic-stricken.
“Woman?” says Mum at last. “I didn’t…” She looks at Dad. “Did you see a woman, Brian?”
“Maybe Becky means… that passerby,” he says in a stilted tone.
“That’s right!” exclaims Mum in her theatrical voice again. “There was a woman just passing by on the street. A stranger. That must have been it, love.”
“Right. Of course.”
I try to smile, but inside I feel a bit sick. Are Mum and Dad lying to me?
“Well… you go off to your lunch party!” I say. “Have a great time!”
As the front door slams I feel like bursting into tears. I was so looking forward to today. But now I almost wish we’d never come back. No one seems particularly excited to see us. My rare, exotic treasure isn’t exotic or rare. And why are Mum and Dad being so weird?
“Do you want another cup of coffee?” asks Luke.
“No, thanks.” I scuff my foot on the kitchen floor.
“Are you OK, Becky?”
“No,” I admit in a small voice. “Not really. Coming home isn’t like I thought it would be.”
“Come here.” Luke holds out his arms and I nestle into his chest. “What were you expecting? That they would drop everything and throw a party?”