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“My apologies. I should’ve guessed you were the sister. You don’t look old enough to have a teenager. I’m Fredrick Lightwood. I’m from the Berry Hill Gymnastics Club. I was hoping to speak to Ainsley’s mum about her career.”
I’m barely seven years older than Ainsley, so it would be impossible for me to be her mother. Our mum went to Benidorm a few months ago and hasn’t come back. She goes off the grid every so often, and we’re just left to cope. Ainsley’s a minor, so we have to be discreet about our situation. My mum wouldn’t win any parenting awards, but we get by.
“I bring Ainsley to gymnastics. I’m her guardian here,” I say, trying to avert the attention away from our mother.
He chews on his lip while he assesses me. “Your sister has a lot of raw talent and potential to be more than what we saw today. Berry Hill is for the elite and could turn that metal around Ainsley’s neck into a more precious material. Gold.” He stares at my sister’s medal like he can perform some kind of miracle before reaching into his pocket and handing over a card. Of course, the writing is in gold, highlighting the location of the club in bold. Unfortunately, it isn’t a few minutes away. It’s in Manchester. “I’d like you to consider my offer or pass this onto your mum. I’d like to speak to her.”
“Thanks.” I smile weakly, glad this conversation is over. The only place his details will be going is in the bin. We don’t have the time or money to travel to Manchester regularly.
He gives a sharp head nod, then walks away while Ainsley and I eye each other. We get into the car and I throw the business card on the dash.
“I’ve been dodging Mr Lightwood for a couple of weeks now. He turns up to practice every so often and asks to speak to one of my parents. I told him Mum is unavailable. Coach says Berry Hill has the best equipment and great trainers. It’s also pricey and for gymnastics wanting to try out for the Olympics. We obviously don’t have that kind of money. He should’ve known that from the sewn-up rip in my gym bag. Do you think he suspects anything with Mum?”
We fasten our seatbelts and I turn the key in the ignition. “I’m sure the club is great, but like you said, we don’t have the money to pay their rates or the time to travel to Manchester. The Kendal sisters have big dreams, but we understand our limitations. Nobody has ever gotten close enough to question where Mum is, so don’t worry about that. We’ll keep a low profile as always, and hopefully, Mr Lightwood will lose interest.”
She bites her lip. “Do you think Mum’s okay?”
I look her right in the eye. “She’ll be fine. As usual, she’ll be too busy thinking about herself to consider that we might be wondering where she is. Eventually, she’ll turn up like nothing has happened.”
Mum is at least consistent with her behaviour. The first time she left us, I was only ten. As the fridge was emptying, she returned as if she’d just nipped to the supermarket, even though her ‘trip’ lasted five days. Legally, I’m not Ainsley’s guardian, and to keep us together, I don’t want anyone to look too closely at our family situation. I’m over eighteen now, so it should be okay, but I work a lot and Ainsley has to fend for herself more than I’d like.
I drive back to our house on the outskirts of Sefton Park, Liverpool. Once inside, I take a quick shower before grabbing a slice of toast. “I’ve got to get to the bar. There’s pizza in the freezer for when you get hungry, and I’ll be back around two in the morning,” I say, kissing my sister on the head.
“Okay. I’m going to watch TV and chill.” She undoes her hair, letting it hang loose.
I point at her. “No boys in the house.” Her words remind me of the Netflix and chill saying, making it necessary for me to set some rules. Ainsley’s sensible, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry. Neither of us could cope with a teen pregnancy.
“Have fun at work,” she says, blushing at my comment. I have faith that she’ll follow my guidance. Besides, I can’t watch her every second of the day. Time to dwell on what might happen isn’t something I have. Ainsley knows we need to stay out of trouble, and I’ve got to let her make her own mind up.
CHAPTER Two
Christopher
“I’m heading out, Grandpa. I’ve got a date.” I kiss him on the cheek while he grumbles at me.
“Is this the girl from last week?” he asks, looking hopeful.
I shake my head. “No. She wasn’t right for me. Veronica has a little more flavour.”
He asks me if I’m having a second date every week, and my answer never wavers. I’m not ready to settle down, and I don’t want anyone to get attached.
“When are you going to take dating more seriously and find someone worth keeping, boy?” He frowns at me, letting me know he doesn’t approve. I’m only in my early twenties. There’s plenty of time for girlfriends later in life.
“Well, considering you keep calling me a boy, I think I have a few more years in me.” I wink at him with a cheeky smile. His features soften, letting me know he doesn’t think I’m all bad. The truth is, I’m not sure I’m the commitment type. I like my independence too much to be tied down to one person. Plus, nothing compares to that first bite of temptation. There hasn’t been a single girl since high school I’ve wanted to see again.
“You’re twenty-three. By the time I was your age, I was married to your grandmother and we had your father on the way.”
“Times have changed, Grandpa. Modern dating has come a long way since the times of chaperoned walks in the park. It’s easier to get to know people quicker now. I’m keeping my options open until I’ve found perfection.” High standards are better than shattering his hopes.
He rolls his eyes, unimpressed with my answer. “Let’s hope you don’t mess it up with the one you were supposed to keep.”
“Let me worry about my love life. You need to keep your eye on the horses.” He’s a huge fan of horse racing and has a VIP seating box at Aintree. I grab the keys to my Aston Martin, ready to be done with this conversation. I’ve tried to change the subject, but he’ll only bite if he has an update. We need a new jockey to work with Ferris, our stallion, and my gramps keeps changing his mind. He isn’t as decisive as he likes to think. He just has different commitments to make.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook with your loose dating morals. We’ll talk about this later when you can’t escape. Regardless of what I think, have a good night.”
“Don’t worry, I will. Goodbye.” I kiss his cheek.
My family only wants the best for me and they’re happy to meddle in my business, not that it will change my stubborn mind. We’re a close-knit community who live on a farm. I work hard for what we have, but Saturday night is mine to relax. It’s the one time I can afford to be selfish with my decisions. No one needs me to muck out horses or feed the animals. Instead, I can leave the farm and find my own entertainment.
