At First Sight by Hannah Sunderland (latest novels to read TXT) 📕

‘Is that so?’ She smiled but her eyes remained wide and judgemental. This woman was the queen of passive-aggressive facial expressions. ‘It’s so nice for yer to offer your … friendship. But I’m sure a girl as pretty as you doesn’t lack for … friends.’

Charlie cast a warning look her way and squeezed my knee once more, his hand remaining there comfortingly.

The jibe didn’t go unnoticed by me either and I inhaled a steadying breath. It would seem that it was okay to call someone a harlot at the dinner table in this house, as long as it was done on the sly.

I sent a forced smile back her way.

‘What is it that a girl like you does for a livin’?’ she asked.

A stuffiness came over my ears, like when you get water trapped in there after swimming, and just like that, there she was again. Abi leaned against the wall, wearing the same outfit I’d seen in the photograph of her crammed into a drawer, plastic headband veil and all. It’s nice to see that I’m not the only one that woman can make squirm, she said, her arms crossed over her chest.

Great! That was all I needed now, a figment of my imagination making this conversation even harder than it already was.

‘Nell?’ Ava said. ‘What’s your profession?’

‘Sorry,’ I apologised and tried to ignore Abi as best I could.

I contemplated replying to her question about my career by saying that I was a woman of the night or that I was head rune priestess in a satanic cult, but the intention to enrage the beast was only fleeting.

‘I work at a mental health support line,’ I said confidently and by the look on her face, rune priestess would have been a more favourable option.

Oh, she’ll love that. Abi chuckled cruelly.

‘Is that so?’ She tilted her head and leaned in over her dinner. ‘Well, that can’t be an enjoyable job, but I guess that someone has to do it.’

‘Actually, I love my job. I find it rewarding to help people work through things that are causing them distress. We help people who are in financial difficulties, emotional distress, people with mental health issues and people contemplating suicide.’ I cleared my throat, seeing Charlie flinch at my last couple of words.

Ava drew a sharp intake of breath and crossed herself. She scoffed and shook her head. ‘Well, the Lord must have blessed yer with the patience of a saint to have to talk to those people without judgement. No doubt a lot of them are drug addicts, homeless.’ She tutted and shook her head. ‘The idea of wasting the Lord’s gift of life is … well it’s inexcusable.’

I felt anger begin to unfurl in my chest and Charlie shifted uncomfortably. ‘So, Mammy, how’s Siobhan doin?’ he said, trying to change the topic. But I wasn’t having any of it. One of my bugbears was unempathetic people and Ava had riled me in just the right way to warrant a response.

‘Some of them are addicts or recovering addicts, yes, but we don’t judge them at all,’ I replied, Charlie’s question evaporating as if it had never been uttered. ‘There are so many causes for mental illness – physical, environmental and psychological. We don’t see these people as wasteful or inexcusable. We see them as people who’ve experienced things that we haven’t, whom we can help and reassure.’ I said all of this with a taut smile, although my eyes stared into hers with a strength that I hadn’t felt in a long time. ‘We even work with a few local churches for those who find comfort in their faith.’

It was clear that Ava Stone was used to dominating everyone in a room, but I wasn’t frightened of Ava Stone, nor would I let her think for a moment that I was.

Jesus, you’ve got some brass knackers, ain’t yer? Abi sounded a little impressed, before the pressure in my ears lessened and Abi disappeared back to wherever the hell she kept coming from.

‘Siobhan, Ma,’ Charlie said with a little more force. ‘How is she?’

Ava’s eyes lingered on mine for a few moments longer. I could see the battle waging in her head between not wanting to appear like she was trying to provoke an argument and not wanting to be the first to look away. In the end she turned her eyes to her son and answered his question. I caught sight of Carrick in my peripheral vision as I turned back to my stew, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from smiling.

I had wondered why Charlie was so dismissive when it came to talking about his family, but now I knew exactly why he hadn’t been home in so long. Charlie wasn’t judgemental or spiteful in the way he talked, neither did he veil it behind a pretence of piety. I had nothing against people who found comfort in religion – each to their own. But the inability to see anything from another’s point of view and judging them for it? I had a problem with that. How had Charlie managed to come out of this family so cleanly, so open-minded?

I guessed that Charlie’s kind manner was down to the influence of someone else, someone who’d taken him away from his parents and shown him the greater world. Carrick would surely have had something to do with it, but there was one other person who must have shaped him into who he was today and she was the reason why we were all here.

The sound of the front door opening caused everyone to stop eating and look around as purposeful footsteps grew louder. I glanced towards the empty place, set next to Carrick, and wondered if this might be the guest who hadn’t shown. I saw Charlie stiffen from the corner of my eye, his spoon clinking down against his bowl and almost disappearing completely under the surface