Page 96 of A December to Remember
“Why wouldn’t you tell me? I had to find out like this. Cheers, Mum! Happy fucking Christmas.”
“Darling, listen, I...”
“I can’t believe you! What were you going to do? Box everything up and hope we wouldn’t notice? Or maybe move out on the sly when I’ve gone back to uni, send me a forwarding address in a text?”
“Don’t be ridiculous...”
“Did he know, this whole time?” He jabbed a finger in Joe’s direction. He must have seen the look that passed between them, because he raised his hands in the air in exasperation or resignation, Maggie couldn’t tell which. “Of course! Of course you would confide in him before your own son. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Ma, but you put your faith in the wrong person.”
She could almost hear Joe’s thoughts as his eyes tried to seek hers;I told you you should have told him. She kept her eyes on Patrick.
“I was going to tell you.” She kept her voice level.
He barked out a laugh. “When?”
“I didn’t want to ruin Christmas for Verity. I didn’t want you to worry. But there have been some recent developments, literally today, and I was going to tell you tonight. I wasjusttalking with Joe about it...”
But Patrick wasn’t listening; he was too angry to be reasoned with. “What were you thinking? Spring it on us on New Year’s Day maybe? Happy bloody New Year! We’re going to be homeless!”
“I was hoping I could change the landlord’s mind.”
“This is our home. I had a right to know.”
“You’re right, but I’m your mother, and sometimes I have to make hard decisions for us.”
“You know, you treat me like a kid whenyou’rethe one who’s being childish.”
“Come on, mate, that’s not fair,” said Joe.
Maggie felt him come to stand next to her, but it didn’t bring her any comfort; if anything, her stomach squirmed with unease. Siding with her was only going to make Patrick angrier. He turned his attention to Joe. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but his eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and his mouth twisted into a sneer that didn’t suit his kind face.
“I went on the Gilbert and Marks website,” he said, voice low with rage. “Thought maybe there’d be a way to contest the eviction or make a complaint. I didn’t find anything useful, but the About Us page had some interesting photographs of the happy landlord family picnic two summers ago.”
She frowned, wondering where he was going with this. Patrick’s eyes were still locked on Joe. His voice had taken on an oily menace that she didn’t recognize. Beside her, she felt Joe stiffen.
“We can talk about this, Patrick,” said Joe calmly. He held out his hands, palms facedown, making a tamping-down motion, as though he could physically smooth out whatever was brewing between them.
“Talk about what?” she asked, looking from her son to her lover and finding only animosity in both faces. “What’s going on?”
“You’re not the only one keeping secrets,” said Patrick, eyes still locked on Joe, daring him to break the stare-off first.
“Let’s not do it this way, Patrick. I promise you, you have this all wrong.”
Patrick shook his head. “I don’t think I do.”
“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?” She felt sick; it was the kind of nausea when your body knows before your brain that something is about to mess up your world.
Joe took a deep breath but Patrick cut him off.
“Gareth Gilbert is Joe’s uncle. I did a little digging. Your boyfriend is on the payroll. I guess this was an undercover job, huh? How much did you get for screwing us over?”
The room spun.
“What?” She looked from one to the other, confounded. Joe hung his head.
Patrick let the eviction notice drop to the floor. “Over to you,” he said to Joe, and left the shop.
The shop was suddenly oppressively quiet. Joe put his hands into his pockets and smiled nervously at her.
