Chapter 61
Sunny
Two hours into sorting cans of beans and packets of pasta into boxes, I’ll admit, any enthusiasm I had for volunteering at the food bank with Mum was drifting.
My phone pinged in my pocket. I stopped to check the notification.
Through the cracked screen I read the sender’s name.
It was Ludo. Again. The heat of rage boiled inside me, like it did every time he sent me a message.
I deleted it without reading it. Again. It was my default setting.
“Orright, Shirl?” I heard Mum saying from the front counter. “How’s the stump, love?”
“They ain’t took the leg off yet.” I hadn’t heard Shirley Trimble’s smoke-aged voice moaning for at least a couple of years. Proper nostalgic.
“Got a surprise for you, Shirl,” Mum said. “Guess who’s here?”
“Noted Hollywood chameleon Meryl Streep?”
I laughed—and slapped a hand to my mouth to smother it.
“No, Shirl. Why would Meryl Streep be on the Wickwar Estate?”
“You told me to guess. Sorry you don’t like my guess, love. I’m not a bloody clairvoyant.”
I giggled into the crook of my arm.
“It’s Sunny, Shirl.”
“Who?”
“My boy. Sunny.”
I shoved a balled-up plastic bag in my mouth to muffle my laughter and peered through the shelves to watch the scene at the counter play out.
“The poofy one?”
“We don’t call them that anymore, Shirl.”
“Right you are. The bender, then?”
Mum sighed. She was giving up. “That’s the one. He’s come home to me, Shirl.”
“Boyfriend dumped him, did he?”
Jesus Christ, Shirl. Be gentle with my heart, will you? A twist of pain pierced my chest as I thought of Ludo, what the back-stabbing bastard had done, and my own stupidity in telling JT the truth about what had happened.
“You wanna be careful, Shirl. Sunny’s packing your box for you.
Play nice, or he’ll give you the peach-flavoured yogurts.
” Mum turned to find me hiding behind the shelf with my lips stretched around a crumpled blue plastic bag.
I froze. She glared at me. I tried to smile, but there was too much plastic in my mouth.
I spat it to the floor. Mum rolled her eyes.
“Get Shirley’s box, will you, Sunny?” she said.
I grabbed Shirley’s box and walked around to the front counter.
“Orright, Shirl?” I said. “Shall I put this in the car for you?” Shirley definitely did not have a car. She barely had teeth.
“Still not wearing underpants then?” she said.
“Touché. How’s young Geordie?”
“Up before the parole board next week. We’re very hopeful.”
“That’s good news for the neighbourhood, then.”
“Cheeky sod.”
“You want me to carry this home for you?” I said, tapping the box with my thumb.
“Yes please, love.”