“Don’t stand there gawping, young man,” his grandma said, leaning out of the back door and hooking in an earring.
“Your dad’ll be here soon, and I’m going to see your mum.” “I wasn’t gawping,” Conor said.
“What’s that got to do with the price of milk? Come inside.” She vanished into the house, and he slowly trudged after her.
It was Sunday, the day his father would be arriving from the airport.
He would come here and pick up Conor, they’d go and see his mum, and then they’d spend some “father–son” time together.
Conor was almost certain this was code for another round of We Need To Have A Talk.
His grandma wouldn’t be here when his father arrived. Which suited everyone.
“Pick up your rucksack from the front hall, please,” she said, stepping past him and grabbing her handbag.
“No need for him to think I’m keeping you in a pigsty.” “Not much chance of that,” Conor muttered
as she went to the hall mirror to check her lipstick. His grandma’s house was cleaner than his mum’s hospital room.
Her cleaning lady, Marta, came on Wednesdays, but Conor didn’t see why she bothered.
His grandma would get up first thing in the morning to hoover, did laundry four times a week,
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색