ridiculous. “Yes, I informed her of the wonderful coincidence of running into the former slayer of Duff Slan whilst on my very important work errands.”
If Ewan remembered correctly, when they’d met, Archie had been carrying a bag from Gluten for Punishment, the cake shop down the way from Eine Kaffee.
“Right,” he said, “errands.”
“So you’ll come?” Archie asked eagerly. “Tell me you’ll come.”
Flustered, Ewan exclaimed, “No, I won’t meet your mum! Are you mad? On second thought,” he added, holding up the hand that wasn’t clutching his carrier bag, “don’t answer that.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Archie said sarcastically.
The front door opened with a loud creak. Much to Ewan’s horror, his mum popped her head out, gazing up at them in confusion. But that lasted only an instant before the deep smile lines around her eyes crinkled, and Ewan knew exactly what she was thinking: Ewan had a friend.
“Who’s this, hun?” she asked, wiping her palms on the bottom of her shirt.
Ewan grit his teeth. “No one, Mum, he’s—”
“I’m Archibald, Mrs. Mao,” Archie said brightly. “May Ewan please come to dinner with my family tomorrow?”
“What,” said Ewan.
His mum smiled at Archie. “Of course he can. How lovely of your parents to invite him.” She turned to Ewan and cupped her hand around her mouth as if she were sharing a secret. “Now you
have
to do laundry.”
“Get your handsome, persuasive face away from my mother,” Ewan snapped, stepping between them with spread arms so as to block his mum’s line of sight. The only reaction he received from Archie was a slightly creased brow.
“Ewan, don’t be rude,” said his mum. She opened the door wider. “Archibald, would you like a cup of tea? We brought some lovely biscuits back with us from Hong Kong.”
“I’d
love
some,” Archie replied, looking smug as he moved past Ewan and into the house.
Once they were inside, his dad took a look at the three of them and hurried away to the back garden, murmuring something about weeds.
“But it’s autumn,” Ewan said plaintively as he heard the door in the back of the kitchen slam shut.
Ewan lingered behind the others to take off his trainers and slide into his slippers. His mum, he noticed, didn’t say a word as Archie walked through the flat with his shoes on, even though inside she must have been shuddering.
“I’m sorry for ambushing you like this, but it’s been
so
long since Ewan has had a friend over,” his mum called over her shoulder as she led them into the kitchen in the back. Ewan, who had always loved their home, was suddenly aware of how many horrible baby pictures there were all over the walls and of how many pieces of furniture were falling apart and in need of a good scrubbing.
“It’s no bother at all, Mrs. Mao.”
“Georgia, please.”
Ewan rolled his eyes.
The cupboard hinges squeaked as Ewan’s mum pulled out the nice tea instead of their usual brew. “Ewan, the kettle, would you?” To Archie, she asked, “And what is it you do, love? I’m assuming you don’t work together.”
She said this in such a way that Ewan glanced down at his tracksuit bottoms and then back at Archie’s cardigan, which had probably cost more than their sofa.
Archie took a seat at the table in the chair where Ewan normally sat. Ewan glared at the side of his head, but, honestly, he was a little curious himself. “I work for my mother’s nonprofit organization,” Archie replied, pushing a few crumbs away. “It’s a terribly important job.”
“Have you been working there long?”
“Since I finished uni. I have a Bachelors of Arts in Equestrian Psychology, but it was never a question that I wouldn’t join the Society; my mother had been planning it for at least a decade.”
“What about your dad?” Ewan asked. He poured boiling water into the glass teapot his mum had handed him, watching as it turned a nice, golden brown. “Was he okay with
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley