Away with the Penguins by Prior Hazel

Away with the Penguins by Prior Hazel

Author:Prior, Hazel [Prior, Hazel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2020-03-04T16:00:00+00:00


28

Patrick

Bolton

December 2012

I CLEAR MY THROAT. ‘Tell me honestly,’ I say to Gav, ‘do you think I look a teeny tad Mediterranean?’

I’ve persuaded him to come for a swift after-work pint at the Dragon’s Flagon. He looks at me curiously. ‘Maybe a little bit Italian, for example?’ I add. ‘My nose, perhaps?’

‘Let’s see you in profile.’

I turn my head.

‘No, I’d say not,’ he says. ‘It’s not a Roman nose. Longish, but not Roman. Your skin’s quite brown though. It’s got definite undertones of olive.’

‘OK. Right. Thanks.’

‘Do you want to look Italian?’

‘Do I?’

‘I’m asking you , mate!’

God, I don’t fricking know!

‘I think those diaries are getting to me,’ I tell him by way of a reply.

‘Mmmm?’

‘Because I grew up without any parents, this granny thing is kind of important.’

Saying that out loud makes me realize the truth of it. And the diaries are quite a revelation. In a way, history has repeated itself. Like Granny V, I lost both parents pretty early on and had to learn to fend for myself. But then, most of my foster parents were OK. Young Veronica didn’t have anyone like that – she only had that awful religious nutter of an aunt. And she didn’t have drugs to fall back on. Man, it must have been grim. No wonder she went off the rails a bit, no wonder she tried to find love wherever she could.

I never knew my dad at all but it’s clear Veronica doted on hers. I lost my mother when I was six, which was horrendous, but I guess in some ways it’s even worse when you’re fourteen. You’ve got all that love built up over the years, all those hugs and conversations and things you do together and then all of it’s just snatched away. Harsh. It must have done stuff to that poor kid’s head.

‘So you think you might have some Italian blood?’ Gav asks.

‘Looks like it’s a possibility. But then …’

Veronica only went out with Harry the one time, but I’m not clear how it ended. She didn’t go into any detail in the diary about the cycle ride home. She wasn’t a happy bunny about it, though; that much is obvious. He didn’t … Surely he didn’t …? Shit. No, he can’t have. She’d have written it down … wouldn’t she? I’ve only been skim-reading, skipping some of the long, boring bits about school, but I’m sure I haven’t missed anything that big. Still, now that horrible doubt has entered my thick skull, I’m going to have to race through the rest of the diaries to find out what I can.

I slurp down the rest of my pint in one go. ‘Soz, mate, I’m going to have to dash.’

My pulse has gone fricking crazy.

I’m being ridiculous.

It must be Giovanni who’s my granddad – mustn’t it?



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