enough.’ Dad’s eyes follow the removals men as a collection of potted pampas grasses and yukka plants are placed on to next door’s driveway. ‘Though he’s got to be twenty years her senior if he’s a day!’
‘Sugar daddy?’ Luke smirks.
‘Probably. Well, let’s face it. I wouldn’t think she’s with him for his athletic physique.’ As he says this he hitches up his shorts and pulls in his stomach muscles, continuing to watch the activity next door. The men unload a set of garden chairs and parasols. ‘Looks like they’ve got a few bob, judging by the furniture. Wonder what he does. Did you see the leather armchairs going in?’
‘
Dad
,’ Luke hisses. ‘At least try to look busy while you’re spying on the new neighbours. Try to be a bit more subtle.’
‘Good plan!’ Dad picks up the rake and starts drawing it across the clear lawn as the heat continues to throb down into their front garden. ‘Bloody
hell
, it’s a scorcher.’
The removals man holds up a deckchair. ‘Where d’you want these, Mr M?’
Mike Michaels holds his hand up to block out the sun. Luke wonders if he ever gets burnt on that great big bald patch.
‘Take them straight through to the garden, John. Through the side gate. Here – give me a couple and I’ll take you down there.’ They pick up the chairs and force open the rusty gate which leads to the back of the house.
Dad stops raking and stretches, yawning loudly. ‘I haven’t seen much of Kitty today. Is she indoors?’ he asks.
Luke looks at his watch. ‘Shit!’
At that moment, travelling from the back garden, over the low walls and picket fences, Mum’s shriek pierces the gentle summer hum of Blake Avenue. It sounds like a
Carry On
scream, rendered saucily comical by the knowledge that Mum is out back in her birthday suit. Luke covers his mouth with his hand; Dad throws his head back and howls, bringing the palms of his hands down, slap, on to his bare knees. ‘Oh, dear,
Luke
. Your poor mother.’
Luke lets the last pile of grass drop to the hard lawn, breaking into a run towards the house. ‘She’s going to kill me!’
Dad’s still laughing as he follows Luke up the front step and into the hall, where Mum has now locked herself in the bathroom, refusing to come out. He knocks on the door, resting against the frame with a fixed expression of amusement on his face while Luke watches on.
‘Go away!’ she yells.
‘So –’ Dad clears his throat ‘– you’ve met the new neighbours? Mike’s the tall one in the Rupert Bear trousers. I think the other one’s called John. He’s the removals man.’
Mum goes quiet on the other side of the door, while Dad reaches over and prods Luke, inviting him to join in.
‘Mike seems quite nice, doesn’t he, Mum?’
‘GO AWAY!’
‘Don’t suppose he was counting on such a warm reception,’ Dad says, deadpan, drumming his fingers on the wall. ‘Anyway, fancy a nice cup of tea, love?’
Mum kicks the bath panel as Dad heads off to the kitchen, where he resumes his cheery whistling, and all falls silent again beyond the bathroom door.
‘Mum?’ Luke says cautiously.
There’s a pause. ‘What?’
‘It’s nearly one o’clock. D’you want me to go and get Kitty for you?’
He hears her closer behind the door.
‘Thanks, Luke. Yes, please, love.’
Luke stops off in his room to pull on a fresh T-shirt. As he reaches the front step on his way out, he hears Dad calling back down the hall towards his mother.
‘That’s nice of Luke, isn’t it, Jo? Saves you getting dressed.’
Her furious shrieks follow Luke all the way out to the front gate, where he raises his hand to Mike and Mrs Michaels, who stand beside the open doors of the removals van, covering their mouths.
‘Nice to meet you, Luke,’ Mrs Michaels calls after him as he jogs off down the road to fetch Kitty.
He turns, still running on the spot, to see her raise an elegant arm, the sun casting her in dark relief, her fingers
‘Sugar daddy?’ Luke smirks.
‘Probably. Well, let’s face it. I wouldn’t think she’s with him for his athletic physique.’ As he says this he hitches up his shorts and pulls in his stomach muscles, continuing to watch the activity next door. The men unload a set of garden chairs and parasols. ‘Looks like they’ve got a few bob, judging by the furniture. Wonder what he does. Did you see the leather armchairs going in?’
‘
Dad
,’ Luke hisses. ‘At least try to look busy while you’re spying on the new neighbours. Try to be a bit more subtle.’
‘Good plan!’ Dad picks up the rake and starts drawing it across the clear lawn as the heat continues to throb down into their front garden. ‘Bloody
hell
, it’s a scorcher.’
The removals man holds up a deckchair. ‘Where d’you want these, Mr M?’
Mike Michaels holds his hand up to block out the sun. Luke wonders if he ever gets burnt on that great big bald patch.
‘Take them straight through to the garden, John. Through the side gate. Here – give me a couple and I’ll take you down there.’ They pick up the chairs and force open the rusty gate which leads to the back of the house.
Dad stops raking and stretches, yawning loudly. ‘I haven’t seen much of Kitty today. Is she indoors?’ he asks.
Luke looks at his watch. ‘Shit!’
At that moment, travelling from the back garden, over the low walls and picket fences, Mum’s shriek pierces the gentle summer hum of Blake Avenue. It sounds like a
Carry On
scream, rendered saucily comical by the knowledge that Mum is out back in her birthday suit. Luke covers his mouth with his hand; Dad throws his head back and howls, bringing the palms of his hands down, slap, on to his bare knees. ‘Oh, dear,
Luke
. Your poor mother.’
Luke lets the last pile of grass drop to the hard lawn, breaking into a run towards the house. ‘She’s going to kill me!’
Dad’s still laughing as he follows Luke up the front step and into the hall, where Mum has now locked herself in the bathroom, refusing to come out. He knocks on the door, resting against the frame with a fixed expression of amusement on his face while Luke watches on.
‘Go away!’ she yells.
‘So –’ Dad clears his throat ‘– you’ve met the new neighbours? Mike’s the tall one in the Rupert Bear trousers. I think the other one’s called John. He’s the removals man.’
Mum goes quiet on the other side of the door, while Dad reaches over and prods Luke, inviting him to join in.
‘Mike seems quite nice, doesn’t he, Mum?’
‘GO AWAY!’
‘Don’t suppose he was counting on such a warm reception,’ Dad says, deadpan, drumming his fingers on the wall. ‘Anyway, fancy a nice cup of tea, love?’
Mum kicks the bath panel as Dad heads off to the kitchen, where he resumes his cheery whistling, and all falls silent again beyond the bathroom door.
‘Mum?’ Luke says cautiously.
There’s a pause. ‘What?’
‘It’s nearly one o’clock. D’you want me to go and get Kitty for you?’
He hears her closer behind the door.
‘Thanks, Luke. Yes, please, love.’
Luke stops off in his room to pull on a fresh T-shirt. As he reaches the front step on his way out, he hears Dad calling back down the hall towards his mother.
‘That’s nice of Luke, isn’t it, Jo? Saves you getting dressed.’
Her furious shrieks follow Luke all the way out to the front gate, where he raises his hand to Mike and Mrs Michaels, who stand beside the open doors of the removals van, covering their mouths.
‘Nice to meet you, Luke,’ Mrs Michaels calls after him as he jogs off down the road to fetch Kitty.
He turns, still running on the spot, to see her raise an elegant arm, the sun casting her in dark relief, her fingers
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