Different
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 47
Frankie
Our old silver-grey car crawled indignantly round the corners, chugging slowly away and making the odd “CLUNK” sound every now and then.
“Mum?” I asked worriedly, “Is it meant to be making those sounds?”
“Is what making what sounds..?” She asked, craning her head round from the steering wheel, “Speak up pet, I can’t hear you”.
“The car Mum! Its sort of…” I paused, trying to find the right word, “well it sounds like it’s…dying…”
“Oh don’t be silly, this served me well for 11 years and its not gonna fail me now!”
“But…” I began indignantly. The last thing I needed was for our car to break down.
“Hush whining, I need to concentrate on the roads” she interrupted me firmly, steering suddenly and making my head jerk and almost hit the seat in front.
My Mother wasn’t a great driver at the best of times…
I slumped obediently down into my seat, ordering the occasional “Left” and “Right” as we drove along.
At long last our car drove up along Indigo’s drive.
I saw her leaning back against the wall, pushing her beautiful long black hair behind her ears and scuffing her sky blue doc Martens against the worn, dirty grey pavement.
Picture perfect, I thought, smiling to myself.
I began to open the window, but my Mum got there first.
“Hello! You must be Indigo!” she yelled loudly.
“Mum!” I whispered angrily, going red as Indigo looked straight at me and began to head over, smiling, “Not so loud!”
But she simply laughed and waved her hand as if to wave my words away with the very flick of her fingers.
“I’m just letting her know we’re here that’s all!” she replied, craning her neck to get a better look at my new girlfriend. Honestly, I loved my Mum but she wasn’t half nosy.
She was enthusiastic at least - I’ll give her that.
Waving madly at Indigo, she wore very bright, mad clothes, giving her the look of an excited hippy - and a big cheesy grin that I had inherited from her. I wondered what Indigo’s Mum was like.
“SO!” began my mother, putting a warm hand on Indigo’s shoulder and almost pulling her into the vehicle, “You must be Indigo!”
Indigo nodded, is perhaps a little nervously.
Don’t say it, don’t say it, Oh PLEASE don’t say it, I silently begged my parent, biting my lip and staring nervously down at my knees.
“I’ve heard so much about you!”
Shit. Thanks a lot mum…
It was Indigo’s turn to blush now.
“Really?” She asked, half giggling and glancing over at me momentarily.
“Oh yes! He never stops talking about you! Indigo this, Indigo that…such a pretty name, did your mother choose it? I never had much taste in that kind of thing. I wanted to call Frankie here “Storm”, thought it sounded rather artistic you know? But My husband wouldn’t let me of course, said it was too…you know…” My mother swept her hands vigorously about as she rambled on, trying to think of the right word.
“…Hippy go lucky shit he called it. “Don’t you putting all your hippy shit into that son of ours’ head” he’d joke” My Mum beamed, finishing of her sentence.
I groaned.
Indigo giggled, not at all put off.
“You’re not a bit like my mum” she smiled happily.
My Mum looked worried.
“Aren’t I pet? I’m sorry, I’ll try my best”
“No!” Indigo quickly reassured her, “I like it that your not like my mum! She never really stops long enough for me to talk to her, let alone joke” She looked sad for a moment but then beamed her usual charming smile.
“Never mind” My mother smiled, “Hop in”
Frankie
Our old silver-grey car crawled indignantly round the corners, chugging slowly away and making the odd “CLUNK” sound every now and then.
“Mum?” I asked worriedly, “Is it meant to be making those sounds?”
“Is what making what sounds..?” She asked, craning her head round from the steering wheel, “Speak up pet, I can’t hear you”.
“The car Mum! Its sort of…” I paused, trying to find the right word, “well it sounds like it’s…dying…”
“Oh don’t be silly, this served me well for 11 years and its not gonna fail me now!”
“But…” I began indignantly. The last thing I needed was for our car to break down.
“Hush whining, I need to concentrate on the roads” she interrupted me firmly, steering suddenly and making my head jerk and almost hit the seat in front.
My Mother wasn’t a great driver at the best of times…
I slumped obediently down into my seat, ordering the occasional “Left” and “Right” as we drove along.
At long last our car drove up along Indigo’s drive.
I saw her leaning back against the wall, pushing her beautiful long black hair behind her ears and scuffing her sky blue doc Martens against the worn, dirty grey pavement.
Picture perfect, I thought, smiling to myself.
I began to open the window, but my Mum got there first.
“Hello! You must be Indigo!” she yelled loudly.
“Mum!” I whispered angrily, going red as Indigo looked straight at me and began to head over, smiling, “Not so loud!”
But she simply laughed and waved her hand as if to wave my words away with the very flick of her fingers.
“I’m just letting her know we’re here that’s all!” she replied, craning her neck to get a better look at my new girlfriend. Honestly, I loved my Mum but she wasn’t half nosy.
She was enthusiastic at least - I’ll give her that.
Waving madly at Indigo, she wore very bright, mad clothes, giving her the look of an excited hippy - and a big cheesy grin that I had inherited from her. I wondered what Indigo’s Mum was like.
“SO!” began my mother, putting a warm hand on Indigo’s shoulder and almost pulling her into the vehicle, “You must be Indigo!”
Indigo nodded, is perhaps a little nervously.
Don’t say it, don’t say it, Oh PLEASE don’t say it, I silently begged my parent, biting my lip and staring nervously down at my knees.
“I’ve heard so much about you!”
Shit. Thanks a lot mum…
It was Indigo’s turn to blush now.
“Really?” She asked, half giggling and glancing over at me momentarily.
“Oh yes! He never stops talking about you! Indigo this, Indigo that…such a pretty name, did your mother choose it? I never had much taste in that kind of thing. I wanted to call Frankie here “Storm”, thought it sounded rather artistic you know? But My husband wouldn’t let me of course, said it was too…you know…” My mother swept her hands vigorously about as she rambled on, trying to think of the right word.
“…Hippy go lucky shit he called it. “Don’t you putting all your hippy shit into that son of ours’ head” he’d joke” My Mum beamed, finishing of her sentence.
I groaned.
Indigo giggled, not at all put off.
“You’re not a bit like my mum” she smiled happily.
My Mum looked worried.
“Aren’t I pet? I’m sorry, I’ll try my best”
“No!” Indigo quickly reassured her, “I like it that your not like my mum! She never really stops long enough for me to talk to her, let alone joke” She looked sad for a moment but then beamed her usual charming smile.
“Never mind” My mother smiled, “Hop in”