The Other Family

‘Come again?’

‘A levels start this week,’ Amy said. ‘Spanish literature and music theory. But I shan’t be doing them.’

‘Why not?’

There was a silence.

‘Why not?’ Scott said again.

‘Because,’ Amy said, ‘I need to get a job.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to stop being a kid, a schoolgirl, I’ve got to get out there and do something and earn some money, because—’ She stopped.

‘Because?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Maybe I can guess—’

‘Because,’ Amy said angrily, ‘it’s al in meltdown here, and I can’t go on pretending anything is how it was and that I can be sort of protected from it. I’ve got to do something.’

‘Like not sit your exams.’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you told your teachers?’

‘I haven’t told anyone,’ Amy said, ‘I just won’t turn up. I’l pretend I’m going to school, but I won’t. I’l be finding a job instead.’

‘What kind of job?’

‘Anything,’ Amy said. ‘Waiting tables, putting leaflets through letterboxes, I don’t care.’

Scott stood up. He walked to the window and looked at his dark and glittering view.

‘Amy? ’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Yes—’

‘Do not,’ Scott said, ‘be so bloody stupid.’

‘I didn’t ask for your opinion—’

‘This isn’t an opinion,’ Scott said. He found he had straightened his shoulders. ‘This is an order. I am tel ing you not to be such a complete and utter idiot. I am tel ing you to get into that school and do those exams to the best of your ability and to do yourself and al of us proud. I am telling you.’

There was a pause, and then Amy said, ‘Oh.’

‘Did you hear me? Did you actual y hear what I said?’

Amy made a smal unintel igible noise.

‘You’re a clever girl,’ Scott said. ‘You’re a talented girl. You are eighteen years old with your life before you, and you may not give up just because there are some short-term problems you don’t like the look of. I won’t have it. I won’t have you throwing your chances away, wasting your opportunities. Is that clear?’

Amy said faintly, ‘You’ve no right—’

‘I have!’ Scott shouted. ‘I have! I’m your brother! I’m your older brother.’

‘Wow,’ Amy said. There was a hint of admiration in her voice.

‘Any more of this,’ Scott said, slightly more calmly, ‘and I shal come down to London and frogmarch you into that school personal y.’

‘I haven’t done enough revision—’

‘Nobody’s ever done enough revision.’

Amy sounded imminently tearful. She said, ‘I can’t change now, I’ve made up my mind, I can’t—’

‘Don’t snivel,’ Scott said. ‘You can. You wil .’

‘There isn’t enough money—’

‘There isn’t enough money for you to bugger up your own chances.’

Amy said in a whisper, sniffing, ‘It’s awful here.’

‘And you think it’s a good idea to make it worse?’

‘I wouldn’t—’

‘You think your mother would thank you giving up your future for a minimum-wage job washing pots in a cafe?’