Twenty-Seven – SocialLies
Mum is driving me back to the hostel but allI think of is Thursday night. Not the Thursday night of almost twoweeks ago but the Thursday night coming.
It’s the first time I have been alone withher for months. The first time since Phillip’s departure and thefirst since Fiona’s shock announcement.
She is having trouble with gear changes andthe clutch the size of a duck’s foot. The Mini lurches forward,bucks and almost stalls before momentum is established. I haveoffered to drive but I think she needs to take her mind off Fiona.The Mini is a welcome physical challenge.
‘Another bloody job foryour father,’ she says finally clearing an intersection just beforethe lights change to red. ‘We may have to get a new car if theycan’t repair the old one.’
I don’t want to
