Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📕

He laughed. ‘How would I know? I’m just guessing lad.’

I sighed and relaxed with my cup in silence, wondering what Tina and Pete might have to share with us. But more importantly, now I had this new information about Mr Phillips to contend with too. Surely if he’d bought something, he had the right to do with it as he pleased. He wouldn’t return anything for free, that I was certain of. Though I had to wonder what it was they so desperately wanted back.

Chapter Six

The four of us sat around the table in the dining room, eagerly awaiting whatever Mum had prepared for tea. She was a good cook. Even when we couldn’t afford much, she always managed to prepare a delicious meal. Cooking was the only nice thing she did for the family.

There were fifteen mirrors in the dining room to make sure I had every angle of the room and table covered. We’d only started eating at the table after Dad died. Grandad insisted on it, said it would bring us closer as a family. We were never able to sit at the table when Dad was alive. He used it as a dumping ground for car and scooter parts; the pile always seemed to breed and get bigger overnight.

Grandad drummed his fingers lightly on the table until Tina broke the silence.

‘How’s work, my little magpie?’ she asked me. Magpie was her childhood nickname for me. She still used it from time to time, even though she knew I didn’t like it anymore.

I tutted. ‘Do you have to call me that?’ I whispered to her. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

She laughed. ‘To who? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, John-Michael. You will always be my little magpie,’ she said, ruffling my hair.

I smiled at her, then straightened my hair. Tina had always taken better care of me than Mum had, and I didn’t mind admitting it. I think if you asked Mum, she would probably admit it too.

‘Well, to answer your question, work is great,’ I told her. I didn’t want to share my concerns about Mr Phillips with her just yet—at least until I’d found out more. ‘Mr Phillips is allowing me to repair mantel clocks now.’

Tina’s reflection beamed. ‘That’s wonderful, JC! You’ll be running the place in no time.’ She chuckled, but I frowned, though before I could respond, Mum walked in carrying her best casserole dish between her flowered oven mittens and placed it in the centre of the table. She removed the lid to reveal a shepherd’s pie sprinkled with cheese. Then she went and fetched a side of peas and carrots and a huge jug of thick, meaty gravy.

‘This looks champion, Mrs Chester,’ said Pete.

She chuckled. ‘How many more times do I have to tell you? Call me Anna.’

‘Sorry. Yes, of course, Anna,’ he said.

Everybody filled their plates high with the pie and vegetables. I took the mash off my shepherd’s pie to make a barrier between the peas and the mince. I hated peas or beans to touch my meat or fish. When Pete helped himself to a second serving, Mum went to get another bottle of wine to share around.

‘You’ve barely touched your wine,’ Mum said to my sister as she topped up Pete’s glass. ‘Something wrong, love?’

Mum never called me love. Tina had always been her favourite. I never resented Tina for it, though. Mum’s actions weren’t my sister’s burdens to bear.

‘Well, as a matter of fact, we have something to tell you,’ Tina said, taking Pete’s hand, forcing him to set down his knife and fork. I followed his actions and set mine down too.

Mum took a big gulp of her wine, as though it would prepare her for Tina’s revelation. ‘What is it?’

‘Well’—her face broke into a huge smile that matched the one on her husband’s face—‘we are expecting.’

Mum squealed and almost knocked over her wine, Grandad clapped his hands, then got up and moved around the table to slap Pete on his back, and I sat wondering why my sister hadn’t finished her sentence.

‘Tina?’ I said and waved in the mirror to get her attention. ‘Tina!’ I repeated louder when she didn’t answer me.

Her eyes found my reflection. ‘Yes, John-Michael, what is it?’

‘I’m confused. What are you expecting and when?’

She laughed.

‘A baby, John-Michael,’ Mum interrupted. ‘What did you think she was expecting, a nosebleed?’

‘Mum!’ Tina snapped.

‘Well, why does he have to be such a simpleton?’ Mum snorted as she topped up her glass. ‘He should engage his brain once in a while.’

I picked up my fork and pushed around what was left on my plate while I chewed on my lip. It was looking like another argument was about to take place.

‘He’s not a simpleton, Mother. He’s quite smart, he just takes what’s being said as literal sometimes, that’s all. God, I thought you’d have figured that one out by now,’ she said, placing a protective hand over her belly.

‘I’m going to be a great-grandpa,’ Grandad finally spoke. ‘I can’t believe it! This is the best news I’ve heard all year. When’s the little mite due, Tina, love?’

‘October, November time. We think I’m around twelve weeks.’

‘That’s fantastic news, isn’t it, Anna?’

I looked up at Mum’s reflection. She sat with a scowl on her face. When would she stop with the comments and nastiness? She always knew how to spoil a perfectly good evening. Despite how close I was with my sister, I liked it better when Tina and Peter weren’t here. When we would sit and eat in silence.

‘Anna?’ Grandad repeated.

‘Yes, it’s fantastic. Who would have thought it, aye? Me, a grandmother and still in my forties. I’m happy, Tina, I really am—for both of you.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘Right, now don’t be expecting me to start having my hair in curlers all the time or having one of them purple rinses. And it will be Nana. None of this Grandma business. I’m too young for that.’

Everyone chuckled except for me.

‘If