When Charlie roared with laughter, the lines at the edges of his eyes crinkled even more and he was still annoyingly handsome. ‘I remember!’
Sam was laughing hard now, and Layla was begging for everyone else to be let in on the joke. ‘How can you even do indoor swimming without a pool?’ she asked. ‘You can’t float.’
‘It was as bad as it sounds,’ Sam told her.
‘Terrible!’ Charlie agreed.
‘We had to lie on the floor on our tummies and move our arms and legs and get from one end of the hall to the other. I thought I’d won gold, your dad thought he had, and when we went to stand on the podiums on stage – upturned crates as I recall – we couldn’t agree who had come first.’
‘They told us it was a draw,’ said Charlie. ‘We didn’t think it was and carried on arguing until your mum pushed me off the stage.’
‘You didn’t,’ Audrey gasped. ‘Mum!’
‘She did,’ said Charlie. ‘It was a big shove too. How do you think I got this?’ He pointed to his top lip and went up closer to each of them so they could see the little scar Audrey had noticed the other day when he was laughing at something Gran said. ‘I fell face first onto one of the upturned crates, there was a bit of plastic jutting out, and my mouth caught it.’
Sam shook her head after Charlie showed her the lasting damage. ‘I really am very, very sorry. There was so much blood,’ she told the others. ‘You told the teacher you tripped.’ Eyes back on Charlie.
‘Of course I did; no way was I admitting being beaten up by a girl.’ He pulled an awkward face stretching his scar in another direction.
‘You saved me from the wrath of Miss Dickenson.’
‘Now she was evil.’
‘I will be forever in your debt, Charlie. She would’ve made my final days at that school a living hell if she’d known what I did. I’m really sorry.’
Audrey rolled her eyes and did her best to focus on the dinner preparations rather than her mum making eyes at the neighbour and giggling in a way that suggested she wasn’t a fully grown adult.
The one-pot chicken was a success. Layla had pulled it off with Audrey’s help and Audrey even went back for seconds, congratulating Layla on the smooth potatoes. ‘You can tick off the item on the calendar now,’ she prompted. ‘After dinner I meant,’ she added when Layla got up. Funny how little kids took things quite literally.
After some animated discussion of the calendar, the veggie patch Layla had with her dad and Sam’s new job at the café, it was Audrey’s turn in the spotlight.
Charlie turned his attentions to her. ‘Your mum says you’re doing your second year of GCSEs soon.’
‘That’s right.’
‘What’s the plan after that?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ Although Sam had her own plans, Audrey had had them drummed into her often enough. A levels, university, then you’d have more doors open to you. Apparently. But Audrey didn’t buy it.
‘No career aspirations? Good to keep your options open I guess,’ he said.
‘I do have aspirations, but none my mum approves of.’
‘Audrey…’ Sam’s voice warned.
‘I’m not trying to start an argument. I’ve been asked a question and I’d like to answer it.’
Sam couldn’t argue with that and waved her assent in a way that suggested she might give up fighting it tonight and instead sit back and enjoy her food and wine.
‘I’d love to be a make-up artist,’ Audrey announced.
Layla was enthralled. Talk about how to impress an eight-year-old easily. Eyes still wide she speculated, ‘You could work with movie stars, people on television.’
‘That would be the dream, yes.’ Grateful someone at least was enthusiastic, she added, ‘But it takes a while to get that far. I’d have to work my way up.’
‘What sort of thing would you learn?’ asked Layla.
‘If I did a make-up artist course at college…’ She shot a look her mum’s way but wanted to answer Layla’s question honestly. ‘I’d learn about skincare, corrective make-up, colour therapy, editorial make-up – when people are on set on TV or stage – special effects, trends, and I’d get to learn from tutors who already do it.’ Audrey didn’t miss the flinch from her mum, the surprise that Audrey didn’t just want to mess around after her exams and do something that was a waste of time; she’d looked into it already, she knew details. Would she be so impressed if she knew she’d investigated other things? Guilt gnawed at her, but it was her life and she’d never forgiven her mum for giving up on her marriage. Marriage took work; even a teenager who’d never been in a relationship knew that basic element.
‘Could you do my make-up?’ Layla asked her dad.
‘You’re eight years old,’ said Charlie picking up his wine glass.
She clasped hands together in a little prayer. ‘Please?’
‘It’s probably better than letting her loose to do it herself,’ said Gran who was surprisingly undaunted by the number of people at the table. Over the last few months Audrey had come to realise how close Gran had become to Charlie and Layla. Maybe it was time for her mum to see it too. Perhaps she would if she stopped ogling Charlie for long enough.
Audrey looked Charlie’s way. ‘I promise to do it tastefully.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not.’ Charlie would’ve picked up on the negative vibes when Audrey first arrived in Mapleberry and the fact that she resented anyone in her space. But she’d grown to enjoy having Layla here, even the piano playing was improving so much that Audrey didn’t always push in her earphones the second it started up. ‘Come over after school one day,’ she told Layla. ‘I’ll try to work my magic.’
‘She’s welcome any time,’ said Veronica. ‘You know that, Charlie.’
Audrey realised then how little family support her gran must have had. On the
