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No, I knew why: part of me still held out hope I could track her down. Phil’s mum would be at work tomorrow. There was a real chance I’d get to meet Phil and could casually ask if he knew Anastasia. Maybe Pam even knew her.
If that was her real name.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and I pulled out my phone to take a photo of my lunch and sent it to Mum.
Me: Arrived safe and well. Eating well too
My text changed to ‘read’ and my phone rang a nanosecond later.
“Hey, Mum.”
“Harry! So what’s it like? How are you settling in? Are they nice? Can you get groceries in Ballydoon or do you have to drive to Stanmore?”
“Mum, slow down,” I laughed. “I literally arrived about midnight last night and haven’t walked out of the pub yet.”
“Your mother barely has a social life and needs to live vicariously through your temporary work in the country.”
“Ha.” I smiled. “Are you okay? How’s Liam?”
“Your brother’s good,” Mum hesitated. “He starts a work trial at the supermarket this week collecting trolleys from the carpark.”
“That’s great.” Mum’s tone was off. “Something wrong?”
She grumbled under her breath. “The neighbours across the road complained about him again.”
“What? Why?”
“Liam ran away. Found him in their yard again.”
The neighbours had complained about Liam being loud and coming into their yard for the last three years since they moved into the street. They were not understanding of my parents caring for Liam with his intellectual disability and his tendency to escape.
Mum sighed, the noise loaded with fatigue and frustration.
I grunted, running my fingers through my hair.
“Don’t you dare think about coming back,” Mum barked down the phone.
“I didn’t say a thing,” I shot back.
“You didn’t have to. I can hear you grinding your teeth. Quite frankly, your father and I are very glad you’re finally out of the house and working again.”
“I like to think I was helping you, and Liam, because I’m an awesome son like that. But, the bed here at the Ballydoon pub is fantastic. You should just take the trundle bed and burn it.”
“How you lasted on that trundle bed these last three months, I don’t know. It’s been great having you home, but you were moping underfoot.” Mum laughed. “Now that I finally have my sunroom back, I set up the sewing machine to start a quilt. Although your father misses having you on the trestles helping him paint.”
While I had enjoyed being back at home and even enjoyed working with Dad, sleeping in the sunroom with no door on a squeaky trundle bed had got tiresome very quickly.
“I’ll hear tomorrow if my flat is under contract. Be good to have it sold finally.”
“Good. I worry about you paying a mortgage for a place you don’t use.”
I didn’t miss my flat that overlooked the hospital, but I did miss my privacy. I couldn’t bring a date home to a trundle bed in an open sunroom with my family sleeping only metres away. Plus, my brother had no concept of boundaries or personal space. Liam had interrupted me too often when trying to have some alone time with my right hand.
Arriving last night at the Ballydoon pub—The Town and Country—to have my own room with a door that locked was just bliss. I’d also behaved like a horny teenager. With Anastasia consuming my thoughts, I’d rubbed one out before going to sleep, and then again in the shower this morning.
I cleared my throat. “Did respite care come through for Liam? And how did Dad go setting up the painting trestles for that double storey job today?”
Talking about house painting would help to cool my libido.
