edging out of the thicket. “We’re going to talk to Dad.”
Chapter Seven
Confronting Dad
Martha was in the kitchen, crouched in front of an open cupboard. She glared at Hannah.
“How come there’s never anything to eat in this poxy place?”
“There’s a casserole in the larder.”
“Not that one we had the other day?”
“There’s plenty left.”
“Yes, because it was so gross that nobody ate it the first time round.”
“Don’t be rude. Granny made that.”
Their granny, Mum’s mother, lived in Middleham. She was old and frail, but she still liked to cook for them, and they always came back from visits to her house with meals for the freezer or tins full of cake.
“I’m making my own tea,” said Martha. She reached to the back of the cupboard and pulled out a tin of spaghetti hoops.
“That’s not fair!” cried Jo. “How come she gets spaghetti and we have to eat casserole?”
The door to the washhouse, where Dad kept his coats and boots, rattled open.
“Martha, will you leave that for a minute?” saidHannah. “We have to talk to Dad.”
“We? What do you mean, we? What about?”
Hannah spoke quickly. Any minute now, Dad would come into the kitchen. “You know that woman who came up the other day? Sophie?”
“What about her?”
Hannah told Martha what she had overheard in North Meadow. Martha stared. All the colour drained from her face.
“No way,” she said at last.
“I swear.” Hannah nodded at the Beans. “They heard it, too.”
“But what did it mean?” asked Sam. “What’s he not telling us?”
The kitchen door opened.
“Tea ready?” asked Dad.
They stared at him.
“What’s up with you lot?”
Hannah pulled out a stool and patted it. “Sit down. We need to talk to you.”
He sat, frowning at his children. “What’s going on?”
They pulled out stools and sat at the table. And everyone, including Martha, looked expectantly at Hannah.
Hannah took a deep breath. “Dad, we know you’re keeping secrets from us.”
He looked startled for a second. Then he seemed to pull himself together. “What are you talking about?” He turned to the Beans. “Is this that blessed spy club of yours, or whatever it is? Have you beensnooping about again?”
“Don’t get angry with them,” said Hannah indignantly. “We’ve all seen stuff. It’s not exactly difficult. First we come home and there’s a strange woman in the house wanting to check out the loft, and you’re wearing your best jacket and making her tea, when you’ve never made a cup of tea in your entire life…”
“Good grief, if I can’t make a cup of tea in my own house without facing a court martial from my children…”
“And then we come home and you’ve got a tea party going on in the sitting room, with a load of women we’ve never seen before. And just now, you’re showing those people round the farm and they’re asking you whether you’ve told us yet. And you said you would do it directly, which we all know means never. So we had to ask you. And we’re not letting you leave this room until you tell us what’s going on.”
Dad’s frown had deepened. “What were you doing listening to private conversations? It’s none of your business.”
“None of our business?” exploded Martha. “Of course it’s our business.”
Dad hesitated for a second and when he spoke, his voice was gentler. “It’s none of your business at the moment, and hopefully it never will be. There’s nothing you can do about it so what’s the point in getting you worried for nothing?”
“For nothing?” said Martha. “It’s not exactlynothing, is it?”
“It’s completely our business,” said Hannah, “if we get a strange woman living in our house, putting her stuff in our loft. And what about Mum’s stuff? We won’t let her throw out anything of Mum’s.”
“Throw out…? What on earth are you talking about?”
“We know you’ve joined a dating agency,” said Martha. “So I
Chapter Seven
Confronting Dad
Martha was in the kitchen, crouched in front of an open cupboard. She glared at Hannah.
“How come there’s never anything to eat in this poxy place?”
“There’s a casserole in the larder.”
“Not that one we had the other day?”
“There’s plenty left.”
“Yes, because it was so gross that nobody ate it the first time round.”
“Don’t be rude. Granny made that.”
Their granny, Mum’s mother, lived in Middleham. She was old and frail, but she still liked to cook for them, and they always came back from visits to her house with meals for the freezer or tins full of cake.
“I’m making my own tea,” said Martha. She reached to the back of the cupboard and pulled out a tin of spaghetti hoops.
“That’s not fair!” cried Jo. “How come she gets spaghetti and we have to eat casserole?”
The door to the washhouse, where Dad kept his coats and boots, rattled open.
“Martha, will you leave that for a minute?” saidHannah. “We have to talk to Dad.”
“We? What do you mean, we? What about?”
Hannah spoke quickly. Any minute now, Dad would come into the kitchen. “You know that woman who came up the other day? Sophie?”
“What about her?”
Hannah told Martha what she had overheard in North Meadow. Martha stared. All the colour drained from her face.
“No way,” she said at last.
“I swear.” Hannah nodded at the Beans. “They heard it, too.”
“But what did it mean?” asked Sam. “What’s he not telling us?”
The kitchen door opened.
“Tea ready?” asked Dad.
They stared at him.
“What’s up with you lot?”
Hannah pulled out a stool and patted it. “Sit down. We need to talk to you.”
He sat, frowning at his children. “What’s going on?”
They pulled out stools and sat at the table. And everyone, including Martha, looked expectantly at Hannah.
Hannah took a deep breath. “Dad, we know you’re keeping secrets from us.”
He looked startled for a second. Then he seemed to pull himself together. “What are you talking about?” He turned to the Beans. “Is this that blessed spy club of yours, or whatever it is? Have you beensnooping about again?”
“Don’t get angry with them,” said Hannah indignantly. “We’ve all seen stuff. It’s not exactly difficult. First we come home and there’s a strange woman in the house wanting to check out the loft, and you’re wearing your best jacket and making her tea, when you’ve never made a cup of tea in your entire life…”
“Good grief, if I can’t make a cup of tea in my own house without facing a court martial from my children…”
“And then we come home and you’ve got a tea party going on in the sitting room, with a load of women we’ve never seen before. And just now, you’re showing those people round the farm and they’re asking you whether you’ve told us yet. And you said you would do it directly, which we all know means never. So we had to ask you. And we’re not letting you leave this room until you tell us what’s going on.”
Dad’s frown had deepened. “What were you doing listening to private conversations? It’s none of your business.”
“None of our business?” exploded Martha. “Of course it’s our business.”
Dad hesitated for a second and when he spoke, his voice was gentler. “It’s none of your business at the moment, and hopefully it never will be. There’s nothing you can do about it so what’s the point in getting you worried for nothing?”
“For nothing?” said Martha. “It’s not exactlynothing, is it?”
“It’s completely our business,” said Hannah, “if we get a strange woman living in our house, putting her stuff in our loft. And what about Mum’s stuff? We won’t let her throw out anything of Mum’s.”
“Throw out…? What on earth are you talking about?”
“We know you’ve joined a dating agency,” said Martha. “So I
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