Page 4 of Chase

“Hi, Theo,” she gushes while twirling a lock of her hair around her fingers, “do you wanna come and see my room?”

“Er, hi, Tilly,” I reply, trying my best not to look horrified over the suggestion. “Erm, I’m not allowed in girls’ rooms. And I’m kind of talking to Grandma at the moment.”

“Don’t be silly,” Dad says unhelpfully at the same time as he slaps me on the back. “She’s your cousin, no need to be so shy.”

He’s rewarded with my best death glare, but he just laughs at my expense. Tilly takes the opportunity to grab my hand, but luckily, Grandma comes through for me.

“Theo,” she says in her best frail old lady voice, “do be a dear and come and tell me how to use this phone. I have no idea how to work these things and I bet a ten-year-old boy can show me.”

I love you, Grandma. If you ever need to live with me when I’m older, I’m your guy!

I shrug theatrically before walking back over to her, ignoring Tilly crossing her arms and stamping her foot in Grandma’s direction.

“I love you, Grandma,” I utter before kissing her cheek again. “You have no idea how much. I officially owe you one.”

“ISOBEL!” Everyone turns markedly silent at the sound of Alex screaming her daughter’s name from the direction of the other room. “What on earth have you been doing? You are covered in mud!”

Before anyone can say a word about this turn of events, Tilly breaks into a run toward the other room, her dress rustling as she goes. My parents look at one another with fearful expressions, while Grandma shuffles a little inside of her seat.

“That’s my dress, you little witch! Why is it covered in filth?” Tilly yells at the top of her voice. “Mummy, tell her off; she’s ruined my favorite dress!”

Considering the fact that her sister is at least two years younger than her, I highly doubt the dress she’s wearing even fits Tilly anymore. I also know that Tilly, darling, won’t have even let her sister look at an item of clothing she remotely cared about, let alone wear it. I suspect this is just an excuse to torture Isobel and to grab some attention in the process. She continues this farce by pretending to cry so loudly, I look at Grandma in horror. She winks at me again, but I can see the slight way in which her shoulders are shuddering up and down, giggling silently to herself. It puts me a little more at ease, though I still think this family is absolutely nuts.

“Your uncle, aunt and cousin are over from America, forgoodness sake! Not to mention your grandmother is here and you look like…like this! What the hell am I going to do with you?” Alex screams at her daughter. Given Grandma’s reaction, I would hazard a guess that this happens frequently, which is strange considering how much she fusses over Tilly.

“What the…Oh, Isobel!” Uncle Craig joins in, moaning to himself over the state of his youngest. I must admit, I am highly intrigued as to what we’ll find when Isobel finally shows herself. “Can’t you for once just-”

“Look, this isn’t my fault, trust me,” a girl’s lispy voice begins, sounding surprisingly confident and calm. “So, I was out in the woods-”

“Why the hell were you out in the woods when you knew we were expecting company? In your sister’s dress no less!” Her mother sounds like she’s walked out of the Victorian times and is about to have a fainting spell that only a trip to the seaside will cure.

“Let’s just say I was there and move on from it,” Isobel says, prompting Grandma to release a little voiced laugh, which has me smiling. “So, anyway, this old guy is doing his nut, having a real hissy fit whilst pointing at the pond where all the old geezers play with those remote-controlled boats. He’s yelling bloody murder, shouting, ‘My fucking dog, my stupid shit-for-brains dog!’”

“ISOBEL,” Craig yells, “don’t use such foul language. Everyone can hear you!”

“Jeez, Dad, I didn’t say them, the old man did,” she argues, to which I can’t help but start laughing alongside Grandma. Even Mom is trying to cover up her grin with her hand. “So, this dog is stuck in the middle of Fenton Pond; I thought the poor thing wasgoing to drown. The old man was of no use, so I jumped in and waded over to him. I grabbed hold of the mutt, who gripped onto me for dear life, then I pulled him back to his owner.”

“Do you expect us to believe that, Isobel?” Tilly asks with contempt dripping from her every word.

“Look, I have the pound the old guy gave me to say thanks,” Isobel replies proudly. “Besides, I don’t really care whatyouthink, Tilly. You still think you poop rainbows and actually look good in sparkly tights. Just so you know, you look like you should be in a Christmas panto.”

Grandma and I can’t help but laugh out loud; this girl is hilarious, albeit a bit whacky like the rest of this family. It’s a pity they can’t see the funny side. Though from the look on Dad’s face, neither can he.

“Mother! Theo!” Dad snaps at us when we begin laughing, forcing us to cover our mouths and look cheekily at one another.

“That’s it, young lady, up to your room…No, wait!” Uncle Craig shouts before the sound of shuffling feet brings him and the young girl into the room. She stands unapologetically in front of us with long, wavy blonde hair, mud all over her purple, frilly dress, and a mixture of adult teeth, baby teeth, and gaps in her smile. She’s very pretty and reminds me of Grandma. “First, you can apologize to everyone for your appalling language.”

She initially grins and waves over in our direction before saying, “Hi, Nonna.” Grandma waves back but tries to look somber as she does so. Craig glares at his mother as though she has wronged him somehow, the sight of which has me feeling the urge to kick him. Hard.

“Well? We’re waiting, Isobel,” he says, staring down at hisdaughter, seemingly trying to intimidate her with his height and broad shoulders.

“Oh, right,” she utters before pulling her face into a contrite expression, folding her hands in front of her muddy dress, and placing her feet together. She’s had to do this many times before; she’s too well-rehearsed not to have done. “I am very sorry, everyone, it was very rude of me to use appalling language. ‘Fucking’ and ‘shit’ are not polite words to use in civilized company.”

Mom ends up with tears in her eyes after she’s bursts into laughter, giving way for Grandma and me to laugh out loud too.

“Say goodnight, Isobel,” Alex positively growls, breaking up her usual neutral expression that has her looking constipated most of the time.

“It’s half past three in the afternoon!” Isobel tries to argue. “Besides, you don’t tell Ethan off for playingGrand Theft Auto. Do you know how he gets points for that game? I’ve seen him, he humps the prostitutes and beats people to death!”

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