a brick dropped onto concrete. She didn’t know where to begin with all that hurt and anger. ‘I’m so sorry Brodie, I’m not really very good at this.’ She wondered if she looked as feeble as she sounded, sitting there clutching her dressing gown up around her neck like a timid rabbit caught in the trap of Brodie’s unhappiness.
Brodie stood up and sniffed, dragging her sleeve across her nose as she spoke. ‘S’all right, not your problem is it? Anyway, ta for breakfast.’ She turned and made for the door.
‘Whoa there, where are you off to? You don’t need to leave – I’m sorry, I’m a just a bit useless at this. Don’t go.’ Elaine had no idea what in the hell was drawing her to this abrasive, unhappy teenager, but she couldn’t just let her walk away.
The girl paused at the door, her hand resting on the latch ready to secure her escape. Elaine watched patiently as Brodie’s black clad shoulders sagged, the tension of the previous few minutes ebbing out of them like a soft sigh. Eventually she turned.
‘I’m sorry Elaine, you’re a really nice lady, and you cook mean scrambled eggs and I know I can be a right bitch sometimes.’ Brodie mumbled it in a typical adolescent approximation of an apology.
Elaine pulled her dressing gown around her, tightening it where it had fallen open during her bid to get Brodie to stay. ‘Don’t worry about it, no need to be sorry. I can’t imagine anyone being ecstatic about what you’ve just told me, and you’re not a bitch. You are allowed to be upset about this, you know.’
‘You sound like my social worker.’ Brodie accompanied her words with a smirk that reassured Elaine that the ice was beginning to thaw.
‘Well, she sounds like a sensible woman then.’ Elaine said with a smile of relief. Wrangling recalcitrant teenagers was not exactly her area of expertise. She had always been rather compliant herself, not that she’d been given a choice. Jean hadn’t entertained anything less than full compliance from anyone.
Brodie shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and scuffed the toe of her trainer against the floor. ‘Let’s not go there, or you really will think I’m a bitch,’ she said, her mouth twisting into cheeky smile.
Elaine laughed. ‘OK, I’ll promise not to talk like a social worker if you wash up while I get dressed. Then I’m going to go into town to find a supermarket so I can buy some decent food, why don’t you ask Miriam if you can come with me?’
Brodie’s eyes seems to light up at this prospect, as if she scented the whiff of freedom on the air. ‘Cool, I can go to the cashpoint.’
She said it with such glee that Elaine couldn’t help finding the contradictions in the girl both funny and beguiling.
Chapter Three
Miriam squeezed her bulk between the chair and the stove to reach the squealing kettle. Steam lingered above her head. Wraith-like, it reached down with misty fingers and curled the ends of Brodie’s hair like a trickster might, much to the girl’s frustration. Miriam impatiently flapped it away with her tea towel and filled the giant teapot.
‘Well, someone’s in a good mood this morning,’ she said, giving Brodie a knowing look.
Brodie picked up her phone, ‘Tony gave me some money, I got credit for my phone yesterday so I’m back in touch with civilisation.’ She was unaware of the hidden judgement in her words.
Miriam bristled, ‘You can use the phone here if you want to.’
‘I know, it’s not that. I can get on to the internet now, and I can log on to the school’s website and get my results when they come out.’
Miriam’s mouth formed a round O of understanding. ‘Well, that’s important. I don’t suppose they will post them here. Anyway,’ she said, cramming herself onto a chair with a sigh that told of aching joints and weariness, ‘I wanted to talk to you about Miss Ellis.’
Brodie looked up from the screen that had not been showing the school’s website at
Brodie stood up and sniffed, dragging her sleeve across her nose as she spoke. ‘S’all right, not your problem is it? Anyway, ta for breakfast.’ She turned and made for the door.
‘Whoa there, where are you off to? You don’t need to leave – I’m sorry, I’m a just a bit useless at this. Don’t go.’ Elaine had no idea what in the hell was drawing her to this abrasive, unhappy teenager, but she couldn’t just let her walk away.
The girl paused at the door, her hand resting on the latch ready to secure her escape. Elaine watched patiently as Brodie’s black clad shoulders sagged, the tension of the previous few minutes ebbing out of them like a soft sigh. Eventually she turned.
‘I’m sorry Elaine, you’re a really nice lady, and you cook mean scrambled eggs and I know I can be a right bitch sometimes.’ Brodie mumbled it in a typical adolescent approximation of an apology.
Elaine pulled her dressing gown around her, tightening it where it had fallen open during her bid to get Brodie to stay. ‘Don’t worry about it, no need to be sorry. I can’t imagine anyone being ecstatic about what you’ve just told me, and you’re not a bitch. You are allowed to be upset about this, you know.’
‘You sound like my social worker.’ Brodie accompanied her words with a smirk that reassured Elaine that the ice was beginning to thaw.
‘Well, she sounds like a sensible woman then.’ Elaine said with a smile of relief. Wrangling recalcitrant teenagers was not exactly her area of expertise. She had always been rather compliant herself, not that she’d been given a choice. Jean hadn’t entertained anything less than full compliance from anyone.
Brodie shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and scuffed the toe of her trainer against the floor. ‘Let’s not go there, or you really will think I’m a bitch,’ she said, her mouth twisting into cheeky smile.
Elaine laughed. ‘OK, I’ll promise not to talk like a social worker if you wash up while I get dressed. Then I’m going to go into town to find a supermarket so I can buy some decent food, why don’t you ask Miriam if you can come with me?’
Brodie’s eyes seems to light up at this prospect, as if she scented the whiff of freedom on the air. ‘Cool, I can go to the cashpoint.’
She said it with such glee that Elaine couldn’t help finding the contradictions in the girl both funny and beguiling.
Chapter Three
Miriam squeezed her bulk between the chair and the stove to reach the squealing kettle. Steam lingered above her head. Wraith-like, it reached down with misty fingers and curled the ends of Brodie’s hair like a trickster might, much to the girl’s frustration. Miriam impatiently flapped it away with her tea towel and filled the giant teapot.
‘Well, someone’s in a good mood this morning,’ she said, giving Brodie a knowing look.
Brodie picked up her phone, ‘Tony gave me some money, I got credit for my phone yesterday so I’m back in touch with civilisation.’ She was unaware of the hidden judgement in her words.
Miriam bristled, ‘You can use the phone here if you want to.’
‘I know, it’s not that. I can get on to the internet now, and I can log on to the school’s website and get my results when they come out.’
Miriam’s mouth formed a round O of understanding. ‘Well, that’s important. I don’t suppose they will post them here. Anyway,’ she said, cramming herself onto a chair with a sigh that told of aching joints and weariness, ‘I wanted to talk to you about Miss Ellis.’
Brodie looked up from the screen that had not been showing the school’s website at
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