A Secret Life by Christobel Kent

Author:Christobel Kent
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780751568813
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2019-07-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

‘Is everything all right, Georgie?’ Dad leaned across the plate of fried eggs towards her. He looked worried. His old cap was on the table beside him, but he had his best checked shirt on buttoned to the neck, and a corduroy jacket she knew he’d bought in a charity shop. Georgie tried to buy him things – the shirt had been from her – but he liked to be independent. It had been a sign of him getting his spirits back, his afternoons browsing for cast-offs.

He’d chosen a greasy spoon off Baker Street for their lunch. ‘Brunch,’ he said to Tabs, excited as if it was something that had just been invented – because he knew he could afford it and whatever Georgie said, he was going to pay. Tabs’ eyes had lit up, to Georgie’s relief.

‘And sausage?’ she’d said, goggle-eyed at the choice on the stained menu. ‘And beans?’

Covertly Georgie examined him for signs of change, of age and deterioration, as she always did. But aside from the pouchy, anxious look to his face at these fleeting moments, when Tabs relaxed her attention and his gaze rested on Georgie and saw something in her, she didn’t know what, Dad looked the same. His hair was being cut regularly, his nails were clean, his clothes were getting washed – and he was even, she guessed from their un-ironed look, managing it on his own.

‘Yes,’ said Georgie now. ‘Everything’s all right, Dad.’

He shook his head, not believing her, then looking from her to Tabs, and sighing. ‘You’re looking tired,’ he said, uncertainly.

‘It’s just me getting older, Dad.’ She did feel as if her body was running twice as fast, lately. Ever since – ever since.

‘Never,’ said Dad, gallantly, ‘not my little George.’ And then a boy was at their table, plates up his arm brimming with beans and eggs and piled with toast. But when he’d gone Dad still looked bothered. ‘Is everything OK at home?’

Tabs’ head shot up. ‘There’s a scratch on the car and Daddy’s angry.’ They both stared at her.

‘Well,’ said Georgie, with a stiff quick shake of her head to tell Dad, Don’t, don’t ask, ‘There’s that. Come on, Tabs, eat up now.’

Dad said nothing, she knew he wouldn’t, just a brief quick pressure of his arms around her shoulder in the doorway as they left. He walked ahead of her holding Tabs’ hand as she bounced beside him along the pavement, walking down Baker Street with its funny assortment of shops, a nail bar with a fish tank in the window and from behind Georgie watched them. She knew the stories he was telling Tabs, a lifetime’s worth, the ones he’d told Georgie and for a moment she yearned so fiercely not to have to go back on the train but to stay here – in the crowded streets roaring with traffic and people, with all the familiar sights of her childhood, the Planetarium and the flaming trees in the park – that she stopped, just for a second, half a second, and heard herself make a sound.

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