I had the strangest flash of uh oh in my belly. Like I was a kid again. Being naughty again.
I took a breath before keeping up with the story. “Yeah,” I said. “It got late so we figured I should.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” Dad said, and Mum shook her head at me. “That’s interesting considering I saw Holly’s Mum in the supermarket late last night while I was grabbing a fresh bottle of milk for this morning. It was interesting considering she hadn’t seen sight of you, and Holly was watching TV on her own in her living room when she’d left to do her shopping.”
My heart dropped. Actually dropped.
I didn’t even know what to say to that. So I didn’t say anything, just sat still and burned up as he lost his temper with me.
“You can be a lot of things, Faith Martin, but a liar isn’t one of them! I can’t believe you would lie to us! To me and your mother! I can’t believe you would lie to us and make such stupid decisions in such an important summer!”
I should have stayed quiet and apologised, like I would have done so many times before over the years. But I couldn’t. Not this time.
I was eighteen years old and had gone out for the night, that was all. I had a car on the driveway they didn’t think I should be owning, and needed an alibi to spend a night out on my own, and it was stupid. So stupid and so unfair.
“I’m eighteen!” I shouted. “I shouldn’t need to tell you if I’m staying with my best friend for the night or not!”
“But you do!” he shouted back. “While you live under our roof, as our daughter, who should be making the right choices in her life, you do fucking need to tell us if you’re staying with your best friend for the night, and don’t you even dare to think about lying to us!” He paused, and he was so angry. I felt sick to see how angry he was. “You are not a liar, Faith Martin! You’re a much better girl than that! I’m so hurt and surprised and ashamed of you. We both are.”
How that hurt. It really did hurt.
To see them both so upset by my lying really felt like shit to me, but I couldn’t help it. How the hell could I help it?
“I’m not a naughty kid anymore,” I told him and meant it. “Really, Dad, I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t keep expecting me to be.”
“You’re a child until you are responsible enough to make decent decisions, Faith. Lying to us and sneaking around like a reckless little teenager certainly doesn’t help your case any.”
“So what are you going to do?” I snapped, and hated how I sounded. “Ground me? Tell me how naughty I am and take my phone off me?”
He scoffed at me. “It’s certainly tempting.”
I shook my head, struggling to even believe this crap. “I need to get ready for work,” I told them both. “Clearly I’m responsible enough to do that properly.”
I got up from the breakfast bar without finishing my toast, and Dad stood up from his seat, still so angry as he looked at me.
“If you don’t act like a better girl from here on in, Faith, you won’t be working that summer job anymore. I’ll make sure of it.”
I stepped back towards him. Eyes scorching his. “You can’t take my job away from me, Dad! I’m leading the auction on Friday! I’m doing really well! Miles says I’m doing really well!”
“And Miles will be listening to me when I tell him whether you should or shouldn’t be working there. I promise you, Faith, that ball is firmly in my court.”
I struggled to swallow my tears down, not wanting to seem like a stupid little girl any more than the one he was already seeing me as.
“You’d better stay away from Stephen Jones,” he said, and my heart did another lurch at how he still thought it was all about the warehouse guy. “You stay well away from Stephen Jones, or I’ll make damn sure you do myself.”
“Fine,” I said, and headed off into the hallway. “I’ll stay well away from Stephen Jones, just stay well out of my business.”
For the first time since I was thirteen, I stormed upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind me.
So much for being the grown up, but it wouldn’t have made any difference if I was anyway.
I’d never be a grown up to Mum and Dad.Chapter Twenty-EightMilesI really did think Colin was onto us as he stormed into my office that morning. He was so angry, his eyebrows were low, his cheeks red with the mist he was simmering with.
“You said you’d look after her,” he snapped at me. “You said I didn’t need to worry about it.”