AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Great, I’ll let him know. Nick will be over the moon. He’s been really looking forward to meeting you.”
She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Turning away, she pours herself another glass of Lambrusco and downs it in three gulps.
Suddenly, there’s a loud cry from the living room.
Startled, we both look at each other. Then I put down my cup and race out the kitchen to find Dad and Michael having an arm wrestle on the coffee table. Clearly, Dad’s getting the upper hand and looks as if he’s about to snap off Michael’s wrist.
“Hey, hey, break it up!” I shout, lunging between them. “Enough of that!”
“Hold your horses,” Dad chuckles. “We were only larking about. No harm done.”
“Wow, that’s some powerful grip you’ve got there,” Michael gasps, rubbing his wrist reproachfully. “I think you may have broken my arm.”
“Oh no!” I shout. “He hasn’t, has he? Please tell me you’re okay?”
Michael continues to rub his arm, prolonging the suspense, then he breaks into a roguish grin. “No, I think everything’s present and accounted for. No broken bones today.”
I breathe a huge sigh. Then I glare at my father. He doesn’t say anything, just sits on the sofa watching us like a mischievous child. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Counting to ten, I run my fingers down my nose and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Listen,” I say, turning to my mother. “Maybe it’s best we call it a day. Dad’s only just come out of hospital and he really should be resting. He shouldn’t be arm wrestling—”
“But we only just got here,” she interjects. “Why are you kicking us out?”
“Please Mum, don’t make this difficult. Of course I’d love you guys to stay, but I’m just thinking about what’s best for Dad. He needs to rest and I’ve got to get up early for work tomorrow.”
“Carly’s right,” Michael agrees, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps weshouldgo. It’s Christmas Eve on Tuesday, so we’ll be seeing them anyway. Plus, if we leave now, we might be able to beat the traffic.”
Grudgingly, Mum agrees. As soon as they’re gone, I race upstairs and collapse on my bed. Taking ragged breaths, I loosen up and start to see straight again.Hold it together. Hold it together.
I roll over on my side and stare at the dolls on my dresser. Judd Nelson and Molly Ringwald gaze down at me fromThe Breakfast Clubposter, their expressions comforting and tender.
Rubbingmy temples, I shake my head ruefully.Am I making a mistake letting Nick meet my mother? In the past, she’s never got on with any of my boyfriends and I doubt he will be the exception. And then, there’s the small matter of him being a vampire...Oh God.What if it’s a total disaster?
Then I think about how good Nick and I are together, and how he’s the love of my life, and my optimism returns. Closing my eyes, I tell myself to stay strong. Of course Nick must meet my mother.Of course.For this relationship to work, we need to act like any other normal couple—and normal couples spend Christmas with the in-laws.
Sitting up, I reach down the side of the bed and fish out my box of Marlboros. Then, with a sigh, I walk over to the window and throw it open. Cupping my hands around a match, I light a cigarette and it tastes good. For a moment I stand there, staring out into the dark night, relishing a cool breeze on my face.
As I crush out the cigarette, my gaze falls on a shadowy figure hovering behind a tree in the garden. Shrinking back, I dive beneath the windowsill, heart pounding like a machine gun. Fuck!What the hell was that?Even the swift glance I threw was enough to freeze the blood in my veins. Whatever it was didn’t look human. Slowly, slowly, I count to ten, pull back the window curtain and stare down at the spot where the creature had been standing.
My breath comes thickly.
There’s no one there.Thank goodness.It must have been my imagination.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Quickie
The next morning I get another nasty surprise. As I head through the hall on the way to work, something tells me to check the living room. Peering round the door, I find a young woman lounging on the sofa in one of Dad’s old T-shirts, drinking coffee and flicking through one of my gossip mags. Her pink lipstick is smeared and her nails are all chewed out. She doesn’t look a day over twenty; worse still, from the waist down, she’s wearing just her knickers.
I’m slack-jawed. “What in the…?”
Instantly, she throws down the magazine and scrambles to her feet. “I-I’m so sorry,” she stammers. “Steve never mentioned that he lived with anyone.”
“I’m his daughter. Who are you?”
“Sheila.” She smiles shyly and looks down at her feet.
