Untitled Adam Baron 2. Adam Baron
room.
‘Where’s my stinky brother?’ she said, texting.
‘Friend’s house.’
‘Great.’ TEXT. TEXT. ‘I’ll get his steak, then.’ PING!
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I don’t think there’s going to be—’
PING! Juni wasn’t listening. ‘Where’s Dad?’ she said, pulling her chair out with one hand. TEXT. TEXT. TEXT. TEXT. PING! TEXT. Stephan and I didn’t know so couldn’t answer, so she shouted, ‘MUM? Where’s DAD?’ TEXT. PING!
There was quite a lot of crossness in Juni’s voice and I thought I knew why. My Uncle Chris used to work all the time in this big glass building (not a greenhouse, one with computers in). He was never home for anything. He’d promised to change, though, so where was he?
‘Well?’ Juni demanded, as Auntie Mill came through. TEXT. TEXT. PING! PING! PING!
‘Look, love—’ Auntie Mill winced, and stared at the side of Juni’s bowed head. ‘Daddy had to take a little trip.’
TEXT. ‘Typical.’ TEXT. PING! ‘And he’s not my “daddy”, he’s my dad.’ TEXT. PING! TEXT. ‘How little?’
‘Well …’
TEXT. ‘I mean, is he getting back soon?’ TEXT. TEXT. TEXT. TEXT. ‘Or not till after supper?’
‘Neither. He’s in …’
‘His –’ TEXT – ‘office?’
‘No. America.’
‘What?’ Finally, and with great effort, Juni did rip her eyes from her phone.
‘New York, to be absolutely precise.’
‘But he doesn’t do that any more!’ PING!
‘I know, love. But some investors got in touch. Look, he’s just not here. But it’s only one night.’
‘That’s not the point!’ PING! PING! ‘My maths is due tomorrow!’
‘I can help you with that.’
‘You? I might as well ask the goldfish.’
‘I beg your par—’
‘Or Cymbeline.’
‘Hey!’
‘Well, maybe you won’t have to.’ Auntie Mill sighed, turning to the magazines. I noticed then that she had an iPad in her hand, which she put on top of the stack.
‘Your dad said he’d be here,’ she muttered. ‘And he’s going to be. Sort of.’
PING!
Auntie Mill started fiddling with the iPad. Juni started arguing with her again but then stopped – but not to answer any of the pings. Mum had come in with a tray. On it were three serving bowls, which Juni and I stared at as Mum set them down on the table.
‘What,’ Juni said, ‘is that?’
Now, I don’t often side with Juni, but I have to admit that I too wanted to know the answer to this question. You see, in the bowl that was nearest to me was what I can only describe as shiny brown sludge. The next bowl was pretty similar except that the sludge in that one was yellow. The third bowl also had sludge in, though that was green.
With bits in.
‘Supper,’ Mum said.
Juni shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It. Is. Not.’
‘It is! Dhal! Sort of curry. First time I’ve made it. That’s split pea dhal with ginger, and that’s lentil dhal, and that’s paneer.’
‘Pan—?’
‘Cheese. Indian cheese.’
‘That is not cheese.’
‘Then what is it?’ asked Mum.
‘That,’ Juni insisted, ‘is vomit.’
‘What?’
‘From three different people by the looks of it, because vomit from only one person looks the same. Why are you putting vomit on the table, Auntie Janet? And, Mum?!’ She turned to Auntie Mill, who was now waving at the iPad. ‘Why can’t I smell steak cooking?’
PING!!!
‘!!MUM!!’
The volume of that shout from Juni finally got Auntie Mill’s attention and she turned to her daughter. ‘Steak?’ she said.
‘It’s Thursday.’
‘But Stephan’s a vegetarian.’
‘Why do I care what Stephan is?!’
‘Because he is our guest, darling.’
‘So? And why is he, anyway?’
‘Auntie Janet wanted us to meet him properly. We’ll do steak another—’
‘Are you a complete imbecile?’ Juni hissed. ‘Or just a partial one? Steak has to be on Thursday to replenish my depleted protein stocks after fencing! And anyway, I’m not putting something in my body that looks like it just came out of someone else’s!!’
‘Juniper,’ Mum hissed. ‘Don’t be so rude!’
‘What? You can’t tell me off.’ PING!
‘Well, someone should,’ said Mum.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Auntie Mill, flashing round to Mum. ‘It’s up to me to discipline her.’
‘Then why don’t you?’ Mum said. (PING! PING!) ‘The way she speaks to people! If she ever does actually speak to people, instead of just spending all day –’ PING! PING! PING! PING! PING! PING! – ‘OH! If she were my daughter I’d—’
‘Hello, everyone!’ came a cheerful voice from the head of the table.
That stopped Mum and Auntie Mill. We all looked round but there was no explanation – until Auntie Mill’s iPad came alive.
‘Uncle Chris!’ I shouted.
My Uncle Chris was on the screen, squinting into the camera. (It explained why Auntie Mill needed the Internet.) He had a napkin tucked in his shirt and behind him I could just make out tables and chairs with people at them. Wherever he was, it was noisy.
‘Cymbo!’ he answered, before looking round. ‘Are you there? Groovy. Oh, there’s lot’s of you.’
‘This is Stephan,’ I said. ‘Though normally only on Fridays.’
‘Right. Welcome, Stephan. I think we’ve actually met, haven’t we? Sorry I can’t be there.’ Uncle Chris held out his hand. Stephan did the same and they did a mid-air virtual shake. Then Uncle Chris turned to Juni.
‘Pickle!’
‘I’VE TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!’
‘Sorry. And sorry not to be there. But this’ll do, won’t it?’
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