Free Perfect Daughter by Amanda Prowse Page A

like a nice boy, the one that knocked for you earlier?’
    ‘Mmm…’ Martha’s face split into a grin. It was almost automatic.
    ‘Do you know him from school?’
    ‘No. He left a couple of years ago. He works with cars and stuff.’
    ‘Oh, right. And is he a friend of Steph’s?’ She tried to sound casual.
    ‘No, he’s a friend of mine.’ Martha raised her arms over her head on the pillow and sighed.
    ‘What’s his name?’
    ‘God, Mum, what is this, twenty questions?’
    ‘No, no. Just haven’t seen him before and I’m interested in your mates – which is a good thing, some parents take no interest at all.’ Jacks tried to appear nonchalant as she folded a T-shirt, retrieved from the floor.
    ‘How do I get parents like that? Sounds quite nice!’
    ‘Ha ha!’ Jacks threw the T-shirt at her daughter.
    ‘His name is Gideon Parks. He’s twenty. And he is really nice and clever. He works with cars, but he’s very artistic too. He’s got great plans.’ Martha blushed.
    ‘Well, it’s nice to have friends to hang out with before you go off to uni and make new ones. Definitely.’ Jacks couldn’t help but reinforce the idea that this wasn’t her life; her life was what would happen when she left this place. Like him, like Sven, who went away and never came back.
    ‘Sweet dreams, darlings,’ Jacks whispered as she backed out of the room and closed the bedroom door.
    Jacks tidied the kitchen, wiped down the surfaces and washed up the remaining pots and plates, then popped a wash load into the machine before climbing the stairs to bed. Pete was already propped up on his pillows, reading a tatty motorbike magazine in his vest and pyjama bottoms.
    ‘Tell you what, Jacks, seven grand buys you a very nice bike.’ He winked.
    ‘That’s a great idea – let’s blow our savings on a motorbike. It’ll give us the space we need and solve all our problems. Maybe we can balance on its saddle at meal times, or Jonty can sleep on the petrol tank and give Martha her room back!’ She added a jokey brightness to her voice but couldn’t avoid noticing the twist of disappointment to his mouth.
    Jacks climbed beneath the duvet and let her tired muscles sink into their old mattress. Her eyes roved over the yellow roses on the wallpaper that she had liked when it went up over fifteen years ago. Martha had been a toddler and she and Pete had laughed as they got to grips with the wallpaper paste and long, fiddly strips of paper in the confined space. Everything had made them laugh back then.
    ‘You going to read for a bit, love?’ Pete asked over the top of his magazine.
    ‘No. I’ve left my glasses downstairs and I can’t be bothered to go and get them.’
    ‘Do you want me to go?’
    She smiled at her husband. ‘No. But thank you. I quite like the fuzzy world without my goggles. It definitely has its advantages. When I see my face without glasses, I don’t look too bad, not exactly dewy and glowing, but, you know, not as bad as some. The thing is I sometimes forget I’m not sixteen any more. I look in the mirror and get the shock of my life at the face staring back at me. I’ve definitely got the beginnings of a tash and when I crinkle up my eyes, they look really liney.’
    Pete snorted his laughter. ‘When anyone crinkles up their eyes they look really liney! You look lovely to me, Jacks. I don’t know why you worry about what you look like or why you bother with that face cream and stuff.’
    ‘It’s to try and turn back the clock!’ She jutted her chin and stroked upwards.
    ‘Don’t know why you’d want to turn back the clock and anyway, cream’s not the answer, you’d need plastic surgery.’
    ‘Well, thanks for that! Are you saying I should go under the knife?’ She sat up, resting on her elbows.
    ‘No!’ He laughed. ‘I’m just saying that all those potions are a waste of time.’
    ‘Why would I go to the trouble of plastic surgery, Pete, even if I could afford it, when all I have