Brooke and Celine entered the house in response to Martha, their mother’s, call.
"What’s up, mum?" said Brooke.
"We’re having tea early tonight," she said, retrieving three ready-meals from the freezer.
"How come?"
"Have you forgotten? We’ve got that parents’ evening at the Hope Academy this evening."
"It’s a bit late for making career choices for me isn’t it?" Brooke remarked. "I’m already registered for my ‘A’ levels."
"We can still discuss which university you’re going to."
"I already know." Brooke was querulous. "I’ve already put in my UCAS form."
"Just in case you don’t get your first choice," Martha said, trying to cover her previous remark.
"You mean if I don’t get my grades. Thanks a bunch."
"It’s not just you," Martha still trying to rescue herself,. "I’m hoping when I finish this secretarial course I’m on, I might be able to get a job at Hope. I’ve been a full-time mum long enough."
"What about me?" Celine piped up, picking up her school-bag. "I’m still going to be a full time kid for a while yet. Or are you packing me off too?"
Martha began to feel she was losing the debate to both her children. "No – you’re going to Hope as well. I’ll still be looking after you, and you would get to see me during the day too."
"Gee, thanks," said Celine. "‘Mommy’s pet,’ that’s what they’ll call me. What if I don’t want to go to Hope?"
"What’s wrong with the Hope Academy?"
"She’s worried about boys," Brooke taunted.
"You’re the one who should be worried about boys."
"What do you mean?"
"I’ve seen that Maxie Fairhurst looking at you. He was spying on you this afternoon. I don’t know what he’s doing home at this time of day anyway. He should be at school. I’ve a good mind to speak to his father."
"He was spying on the new neighbours moving in, not me!" said Brooke with some disdain. "Besides, he’s too young for me!"
"I’m very glad to hear it!" said Martha. Another thought occurred to her, and she would welcome changing the direction of the conversation. She unwrapped the frozen packages and pretended to be studying the cooking instructions. "By the way," she said as casually as she could, "what are the new neighbours like?"
Celine threw her bag down on the floor and stomped out of the kitchen.
"What was that about?" said Martha, puzzled. The older her children got, the less she seemed to understand them.
Max returned from his self-imposed exile in his bedroom. He hadn’t the slightest intention of doing any study, and had quickly become bored.
His father, Benson, was sitting at the desk that had effectively turned the lounge into a study, looking through wedding photos from his last commission.
"Has that Keaton woman gone?" Max asked.
The pictures Benson were looking at were old ones, no longer of any real value, and he was actually slightly relieved to have Max distract him. Without looking up, he said, "Have you done enough of being the nosey-parker for one day?"
"I’m not from the social, poking her nose into everything."
"I wasn’t talking about us. Was it Brooke Ames you had your eye on or the family moving in at number 23?"
Not for the first time Max wondered how his father knew what was going on outside when he had the curtains drawn. "Who says I was looking at either?"
Benson looked up. "You know, I think you are right. I really ought to think about getting a digital camera and a computer. If you got yourself a part-time job, perhaps we could afford a little more."
"I’m studying for my Mocks, Dad. How could I find the time for a job too?"
"Other kids do. And a computer could help you with your homework."
Maxwell wandered around the room restlessly before fiddling with something on his father’s desk. "It looks like Brooke was right – it is a new teacher for the Hope."
"How could she have know that? And leave my filters alone or you’ll get finger marks on them."
"She’s a woman, dad. They all gossip to each other. Motor-mouths. That’s why they always know everything."
"Don’t you let you mother hear you say that."
"Ashleigh’s not my mother." He put down the filters and started to push index cards from his father’s filing system around on the desk.
"I know, but I think she likes to hear you call her that. Gives her a sense of respect."
"Yeah but she’s only ten years older than I am."
"And do you prefer it when she calls you ‘Max’ or ‘son’?"
"Dad," Max shaded his eyes with a hand as if solving a difficult problem in his head, "I really don’t care."
"Still," Benson glanced up, "respect is respect."
"And I do respect her," he said, looking towards the window as if he might see Brooke, even though the angle was impossible. Unless she was standing outside in the front garden. "But she’s your girlfriend, not mine."
Benson turned away from his desk to face Max. "I’d like to think of us more as a family." Max said nothing. "And as for girlfriends, don’t you think you might be wasting your time a little with Brooke Ames when she’s just about to go to Uni? How are you going to compete with all those college boys?"
Max folded his arms across his chest, then raised a hand to his mouth and bit a knuckle. "Who says I’m after Brooke Ames?"
"Sometimes we men know some things too." He paused. "But perhaps you could tell me something. They have computers at school these days, don’t they?"
"Gosh, I wonder," Maxie mocked, "is this the 19th or 20th century – I can never remember."
"Do they ever sell any old ones off."
Max, realising this was not another veiled slight from his father, changed his attitude. "Yeah, sometimes, I think they do. I could ask them about it."
"There you go. If they’re cheap enough, it would help us both out, don’t you think?"
Max nodded. "If I could download porn with it, that’d be great."
Benson sighed. What it was like having a teenage son. "And next summer you’ll be getting your exam results and turning your back on Magnolia Close." There was a hint of anticipated relief in his voice.
End of Episode 6
No comments:
Post a Comment