Snow Balls (Ball Games #2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

mid-sentence, so Dylan doesn’t note my dropped jaw. 'Jennifer? The appointment's with Jennifer?'
    'Yes, Jennifer Lambert. Do you know her?’
    ‘She comes in the shop.’
    Dylan nods. ‘Right. Well, she deals with our mortgage applications. She'll get you the best deal. Fab girl. She'll spend ages with you to make sure you understand the application. Really goes the extra mile.'
    God, I hope so.
    'Ten am it is then. Thanks, Dylan.’
    ‘No problem. Now, is that all mate, cos I'm dying for a cup of tea?'
    'Oh yeah, sorry about interrupting your lunch. Erm, in case something comes up… what days does Jennifer work? Is she part-time, got kiddies like?'
    'God, no. Party girl is Jennifer. Full-time contract but sometimes her hangovers don't wear off until about eleven am.'
    'Well, I'm sure Friday morning will be fine. Thanks, Dylan. Enjoy your cuppa.'
    'See you mate. Give your sister a call sometime will you? She's dying to know what's happening since your mother gave you your eviction notice.'
    'Will do.'
    On my way back from work I treat myself to a Gregg's sausage roll. I have a date with Jennifer on Friday. Hmm, I'd better get my mother to wash and iron this suit. I'll need it again.
     
    I love heading up to my room on a Wednesday evening because I can stay up until whatever time I like. No work on Thursdays. No alarm to set. Mum and Dad both work on Thursdays so I get the house to myself. It's perfect. This Wednesday, I stay on the computer until around three am when I finally decide I need to sleep.
    Beep-beep-beep-beep. I stir. What’s that sound? There's an unfamiliar beeping noise in my ear. Shit. Is that the smoke alarm? Are we on fire? I sit up quickly and scan the room for my lounge joggers and tee. There's no way I'm standing outside the house if it's on fire with no top on, not in the middle of winter. The noise is getting louder and shriller. Bip-bip-bip-bip-bip. Where the fuck is it coming from? Nightwear on, I follow the noise downstairs, walking cautiously and staring just ahead. The noise leads me to the kitchen worktop. It's not a smoke alarm but a tiny alarm clock. One of those pound shop specials, a small square white noise box. I hit the top of it. Underneath is a piece of lined paper ripped from a spiral jotter. As I pick it up, flakes of paper float off. I read my mother's writing.
    Morning Tyler. It's nine am. Enough of a lie in for a weekday I think. It’s time for you to realise that there's no such thing as a day off. Yes, you can relax, but only when the chores are done. Therefore, I'm giving you an insight today into a day off for me, seeing as you seem to think I watch box sets all day.
    I left the dishes last night. You enjoyed the meal. Let's see if you enjoy cleaning the dishes as much. After I've stood in the kitchen for an hour cooking, I then watch as everyone takes no longer than ten minutes to eat. Often you or your father will moan about some of it not being perfect. I then go into the kitchen and wash up after you all. Well, today you can see what it's like to be me. Enjoy tackling the congealed pots.
    P.S. Hurry up and get them done. There's more to come.
    I sit at the kitchen island with my elbows resting on the worktop and my head in my hands. My mother is a force majeure. She's probably got a webcam trained on me and is watching me from her mobile phone sniggering. I've had six hours sleep. I decide to make myself a coffee but when I go to the cupboard, there are no mugs. To make a coffee, I have to wash a mug. For God’s sake. I sigh and set to the task. Twenty minutes later my wrinkled fingers hold a steaming mug of coffee. I take it up to my room with a sigh.
    At ten am I hear another shrill beep emanating from downstairs. You've got to be fucking kidding me. This takes me longer to discover. I eventually locate the alarm clock in the cupboard under the stairs. There's a note stuck to the vacuum cleaner.
    Hey, Tyler.
    Hopefully, the dishes are clean, dried and put away?