Damage by PJ Adams Read Free Book Online

interrupt him. When she’d realized they’d been talking forever and the evening was flying by. When he’d walked her home and been so understanding, everything so easy with him.
    And that just confirmed that they must never do that. If you can think of a relationship in terms of a favorite old jumper, or a pair of comfortable slippers, then that’s really not a good thing.
    “It’s not all about sex, Rube.”
    “No? Well that’s not my experience. If a guy ever says that to you, next thing you know he’ll have his hand up your top.”
    §
    The next day was Sunday and she was serving at The Bull, and she could so do without this. She could do without Tommy going all intense and possessive on her. She’d thought he was past all that.
    “I saw you,” he said. “With him. The guy from the Hall.” Tommy leaned at the bar, pint in one hand. There was something in his manner all of a sudden, something different and on edge.
    “What?” said Holly. “When?” Then: “So what? He’s just a client. You don’t need to be so protective, okay?”
    He had that look in his eye again. She hadn’t seen it for years, but now it took her right back. This was more like the old Tommy, the bottled up, brooding Tommy. It had been too much back then, back when everything had seemed so much more real, more important . A world of exaggerated Technicolor emotions. It had been a part of the complex set of reasons why they’d broken up.
    But now his features shifted, relaxed, and he smiled, the moment past. It had only been a hint of the old him, no more.
    He really had changed. Grown up.
    “You just didn’t look too pleased,” he said. “I wanted to be sure you’re okay.”
    Holly smiled back at him, and felt a tightness in her chest easing, as if someone had undone a belt around her rib-cage. “Thanks, Tommy. It’s all okay, though. The guy fired me and then felt a bit bad about it, that’s all.”
    “Okay,” he said. “But if you ever need to turn to someone for help, I’m here.”
     

6
    “Can we talk?”
    “Later, Dad? Okay? I’ve got to dash.”
    He knew today was mad for her. A full day at uni, a rush for the bus, quick change at home and then out for the evening looking after Karen’s kids. She’d got it down to a fine art, off the bus and into the shower inside a minute, except on those days when her father was standing there in the hallway, a bunch of envelopes in his hand and an expression on his face like...
    “What is it, Dad? What’s up?”
    She hadn’t seen him looking like that since the worst days after they’d lost her mother.
    “I... Can we talk?”
    §
    He made a pot of tea, found biscuits, fussed over the tea-cups, and all the time his eyes never met Holly’s.
    Finally, he sat opposite her at the kitchen table, the tea poured, the biscuits arranged on a small plate.
    “What’s up, Dad?”
    He still wouldn’t meet her look. Instead, he reached for the pile of letters and pushed the top one towards her. A plain white envelope, the address printed on the front, a local post mark.
    “The Estate?”
    “Says something about a review of assets,” her father said, finally.
    She picked up the envelope and peered inside.
    “An eviction notice ? They can’t just do that. We’ve been here years. They can’t just kick us out. Where do they think we’ll go?”
    Then she looked more closely at the letter.
    “How many months...?”
    Unpaid arrears.
    It had become an untenable situation.
    No alternative.  
    Phrases kept leaping out at her.
    Thirty days from the date of this notice.
    “Dad. Oh, Dad . Why didn’t you say something?”
    It was his only thing. The one responsibility he clung onto. He would always put a roof over their heads. It was the man thing, the father thing.
    Holly worked all hours, paid most of the bills, bought and cooked the food, but it had always been her father who had used his investments from the days he had been a successful businessman to at least pay. The.