Brilliant Read Online Free PDF Page B

with one of her famous grunts.

    Una had to be careful. She didn’t want to hurt Ben, or Pat. Or the kids—especially not the kids. Gloria and Raymond adored Ben. And they were right to. He was the best uncle they could possibly have. She’d never have done anything to upset them, or to make them think less of Ben—or her.
    And then there was her mother. The children’s granny. She’d been living with them for six years now, and it had worked out very well. She had her own little flat. Her own front door, her own little kitchenette, fridge, stove, everything she needed. But she could be a bit tricky, even difficult. Una didn’t mind it too much, but her mother got on Pat’s nerves. She was very good at it.
    Sometimes, at night, he’d lie on the bed, stiff with annoyance.
    â€œShe could see I was watching football. She’s bloody deaf, not blind.”
    â€œShe was only making conversation.”
    â€œIs that what you call it? ‘What are you watching?’ ‘The football.’ ‘The what?’ ‘The football.’ ‘The what?’ She was trying to bully me out of the room, so she could have the telly to herself. She has her own telly.”
    â€œShe just wants the company.”
    â€œIt’s not company she wants,” said Pat. “It’s the remote control she wants. That’s her evil plan.”
    â€œAh, stop.”
    â€œShe knew full well it was football.”
    â€œShe knows nothing about sports,” said Una.
    It wasn’t really an argument. They were having a great time.
    â€œNothing?” said Pat. “There was a goal, right—while she’s asking me what I’m watching. Messi scores this brilliant goal. And do you know what she says? ‘He was offside.’”
    They were laughing, but it wasn’t as easy as that. Una’s mother did kind of occupy the place when she felt like it. She had her own key.
    â€œBig mistake, big mistake.”
    So she came and she went. Or, she came . . . and sometimes she went. So there was a balance—kind of. Pat got Ben, and Una got her mother. Fair and square—sometimes.
    Una hated thinking like this. She hated looking at Ben and seeing a problem. She wanted to help. She wished she could do something to make him happier. She could have hugged him, but she already seemed to be hugging him three or four times a day.
    Her mother broke the silence.
    â€œThat’s terrible news,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
    â€œYes,” said Una. “It is.”
    Below her, the children were listening. “So,” thought Gloria, “this is mumbling.”
    Una looked across at Ben again. Poor lad.
    A few minutes before, he’d told them that he was closing down his painting and decorating business.
    â€œAre you sure about this, Ben?”
    Ben shrugged. “A few years ago I stopped answering the phone because I was too busy,” he said. “I couldn’t keep up. But now . . . the phone never rings.”
    Raymond saw his Uncle Ben’s feet moving. He saw the white paint spots on the boots.
    Ben stood up.
    â€œSo,” he said. “That’s that.”
    Gloria watched her Uncle Ben’s feet walk slowly to the kitchen door. She knew by the way he moved that something sad and bad was going on. She wanted to roll out from under the table and run after him. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t. Maybe because her legs had gone numb. Maybe because she wasn’t even sure she was thinking properly. Maybe she’d been doing her drifting.
    Then something else happened—it definitely happened. Uncle Ben shut the kitchen door.
    Raymond saw it too. He looked at Gloria. She was already looking at him. The kitchen door had never been closed before, not as far as Raymond or Gloria could remember. It was always left open—always. Except when the last adult went up to bed.

    They looked at each other. There was no