This Is Not Forgiveness by Celia Rees

Alan.’ I swipe away tears. ‘Private joke. I’ll make the time up. Come in early. Help you open up. How would that be? And I’ll pay for the boater, no problem.’
    Alan’s anger modifies to grumbling. ‘All right. But I won’t have you two larking about.’ He’s not very tall and he pulls himself up to his full height. ‘You’re here to take the customers for a ride, not me.’
    He turns on his heel and goes back to his booth, well satisfied that he’s had the last word. That sets Steve off again and I join in. I can’t stop grinning and I’d laugh at anything. I’ve got a date. She’s going to pick me up at eight.
     
    I make sure I get into the bathroom before Martha. When I come out, I find her standing on the landing in her dressing gown, scowling at me. Without her make-up, she looks about ten.
    ‘What were you doing in there?’
    ‘Getting ready. All yours now.’
    Her scowl deepens. ‘I hope it’s not all wet and messy and I hope you’ve cleaned out the basin. I can’t stand it when it’s all scummy and full of little bits of stubble. And you’d better not have been using my shampoo.’
    ‘I’ve got my own, thank you. And I wiped out the basin. Just for you.’
    My mood is too good for her to shake it.
    ‘Zoe’s having a party,’ she says as she’s passing my door. ‘Lee will be there and I said I’d ask you. Do you want to come?’
    ‘Thanks, but I’ve got plans.’
    She stops in her tracks and walks back.
    ‘Plans?’
    ‘Since this afternoon. I’ve got a date.’
    ‘A date?’
    She’s in the room now. I’m standing there, half naked. She doesn’t care.
    ‘Do you mind? I’m trying to get dressed here.’
    I zip up my jeans and pull on a new T-shirt. Change my mind. Strip it off and grab a shirt from the wardrobe.
    ‘You can’t wear that!’ Martha’s nose wrinkles. ‘You look like you’re going for a job interview.’
    I pull out shirts, one after another. Martha rejects them all – too smart, too casual, too school, too beach party . . .
    At last she goes for a plain dark blue. Tommy Hilfiger. No wonder she likes it. She bought it for me last birthday.
    ‘So?’ She asks as I button it. ‘Who’s the date?’
    I tap my nose. ‘None of yours. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to finish getting ready.’ I scoop up some hair product and turn to the mirror to arrange my hair. ‘She’ll be here at eight. I don’t want to be late.’ I pick up my watch. ‘It’s nearly eight now.’
    A car horn sounds outside. She’s on time. I take that as a good sign. I’m out of the door and down the stairs. When I look up at my window, I see Martha staring, mouth open, catching flies. I laugh and wave. Martha does not wave back. Her mouth shuts like a trap. Her lips compress into a thin line.
    ‘I’ve brought your brother’s phone,’ Caro says as I get in the car. She holds it out for me to see. ‘It is his, I take it? I thought maybe we could drop it off on our way.’
    ‘On our way to where?’ I ask as I fasten my seat belt.
    ‘On our way to wherever we are going.’
    I give her directions and she drives off. She’s driving the cream-coloured Mini convertible with the top down. It’s a nice ride. If I had a car, this is the kind of car I’d like to have. I sit back and enjoy the novelty of being driven about by a girl. Some guys wouldn’t like that, but I don’t mind it at all. She’s not a bad driver. A bit fast, but sure and decisive. Better than me, that’s for certain. I’ve only just started taking lessons. They are expensive and Martha gets priority. Haven’t even put in for my test yet.
    ‘How come you have a car?’ I ask.
    ‘Trevor bought it for me. Seventeenth birthday present. He taught me to drive. We used to live in a place where there was a private road. He’d take me out on that. I passed my test just after my seventeenth birthday.’
    ‘Who’s Trevor?’
    ‘The man who is married to my mother.’
    ‘Don’t you call him Dad?’
    ‘No,