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‘Late one tonight, Hols?’ a familiar voice boomed.
Jen had been so busy looking at Holly she’d completely missed Harry leaning on the open door of his van.
‘Hi Dad,’ Holly said, ‘Yeah, just off out. Shouldn’t be too late, should we?’
‘Nah, I’ll get her home at a decent time, promise,’ Jen reassured, shielding her eyes from the sun as she squinted in Harry’s direction. The sun was right behind him and it was impossible to read his face. Through the glare, she could just about make out a knowing smile.
‘Get her home in one piece and we’ll be happy. Right, better crack on. Just been to the wholesaler.’
‘Bye, Dad,’ Holly said, not sounding overly impressed.
‘Bye, love. Have a good night, Jen. Stay safe.’
‘Will do, Mr Taylor.’ Jen clocked herself, her face flashing with perplexion. She’d never called Harry that in his life. It was like she was a teenager again, meeting the parents for the first time. He didn’t seem to notice. ‘Do they know?’ Jen asked, a question springing to life.
‘Know what?’
‘That we’re,’ she lowered her voice as they passed a crowd at the fruit and veg shop, ‘fake dating?’
‘Ah, kind of. I dunno. Maybe, not really. I mentioned it, but not in detail. I don’t think they get it.’
Jen nodded; she’d had a similar conversation when she’d phoned her mum last week, Annie’s photos raising lots of questions from her bewildered parents. They weren’t the type of family that spoke about such personal things, so thankfully she could gloss over it and move on with the luxury of putting the phone down at the end of it all. Holly had to live with her parents. ‘They’ll have seen Annie’s posts though, yeah?’
‘Oh God, yeah. Dad loves social media.’ Holly clicked the button for the traffic lights as they came to a standstill. ‘What about your parents?’
‘Mine?’
‘Oh God, they’re not dead are they? Shit, sorry.’
Jen couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Why did you suddenly jump to that conclusion?’
‘Please tell me I’ve not just put my foot right in it?’ Red travelled up Holly’s neck as she bit her top lip.
‘Both alive and well.’
‘Thank fuck,’ Holly said letting out a breathy sigh. ‘You just never talk about them.’
‘There’s not much to say.’ The green man appeared, a shrill beeping keeping pace as they crossed diagonally to the other street. ‘They live in France, so I don’t see them much.’
‘France? Wow, so is that where you grew up?’
Jen shook her head. ‘Nah, I’m a Glasgow girl through and through. I’ve only been to France for holidays.’
‘I didn’t think the accent was right. So why did they choose France?’
‘Ma mère est française. Ils ont déménagé lorsqu’ils ont pris leur retraite,’ Jen replied, speaking like she’d lived in Paris her whole life.
Holly stopped, even though she’d not quite reached the pavement. Jen pulled her forward by the elbow, unable to deny a stupid grin.
‘What. The. Heck?’ Holly managed, her mouth agape.
‘My mum’s French, but I don’t shout about it. Made higher French a breeze.’
Holly was still walking at half-pace, her brain stealing her attention from the task in hand –getting to the pub, which was only a hundred yards away – while it tried to make sense of what the heck was going on. ‘Right, wait, slow down. Say that again. I want to know what you said.’ A smile filled her face, awe etched in her expression.
Jen chuckled. She liked throwing this curveball; it didn’t happen often but it always got a good reaction from the people she let in. ‘Come, walk and talk, Miss Taylor.’
‘Yeah, yeah, but come on, parlez-vous Français, if you please.’
