Page 105 of Rafferty's Rules
I jerk in surprise as Matty’s little hand wraps around my wrist.Auntie Lissa? Fake Auntie Lissa. Lying Auntie Lissa.My eyes prick with tears immediately, filling with tears. Damn and shit and justfuck! Leaving next week is going to hurt so much.
Gritting my teeth, I try to smile down at him. From his worried little face looking back up at me, I guess I’ve missed my mark.
‘Nana won’t really wash out your mouth.’ His fingers tighten reassuringly, his face as earnest as only a child can be. ‘She’s caught Edie saying much worse than that, and she only ever gets sent to her room.’
‘Dibber-dobber!’ his sister yells from where she’s lying on the kitchen floor stroking Muffy or Fluffy; whichever one of the mutts is Edie’s current captive of affection.No wonder Cat prefers the little cottage. He get’s much less attention over there.
‘Quiet, Edie,’ her grandmother warns, pointing at the stroller in the corner where Baby is sleeping. Baby, as it turns out, does actually has a name. It’s Maximillian, which is apparently the name of all firstborn sons in Chastity’s family for the last five generations. They’ve just decided he needs to grow into the moniker before they start using it officially. And who am I to say that’s a silly idea after I named a stray cat Cat?
‘It’s not dobbing if it’s true.’ Matty’s chin sets stubbornly as he defends his position.
Dibber-dobber = tattle-tale. I suppose they’re both equally ridiculous and not nice to be on the other end of.
‘It kind of is, mate,’ Rafferty offers kindly. ‘But you were just being nice to Auntie Lis, weren’t you?’
Auntie Lisseems to have garnered Uncle Tee’s approval, who smiles at me from over his cup of coffee. Despite my threatening tears, I smile back, my smile widening as I notice the T-shirt he’s wearing, which proclaims:
Funkle
(noun)
Like Dad, only much cooler and better looking.
See also Awesome.
I blow out a breath then pat Matty’s hand. ‘I feel much better now, thank you.’
‘I bet you’re pleased you’re not in trouble for saying a bad word.’
‘I am indeed,’ I tell him.
‘So what is it?’ Rafferty asks, putting down his cup. He folds his forearms on the island countertop, the sleeve of his T-shirt moulding to his bicep.
Ah, me...It’s not fair because it’s the bigandthe little things I’ll miss.
‘That was the airline. My bag is still globetrotting. It looks like I’ll be wearing my trusty sundress for the big day tomorrow.’
‘Oh, love. That’s a shame,’ Sally says. ‘You’ve had such a rough time of it after coming all this way to see Rafferty. First your bag, and then your credit card.’ I nod in agreement, safe in the knowledge that my brothel excursion isn’t part of this sanitised tale. ‘But surely Rafferty could buy a new dress for you? In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t offered already.’
‘Don’t even, Mum. I tried.’
‘She wouldn’t let you?’ she asks a little incredulously.
‘Not even so much as a toothbrush.’
‘Ilike to take care of myself.’ Even though this is the first time I’ve actually been on my own. ‘And it just doesn’t sit right with me.’ This is at least true.
‘And it doesn’t sit right with me that you’ll be dressed like Cinderella tomorrow.’ I being to protest my dress isn’tthatbad, but I know it isn’t really appropriate for a wedding, and that’s not just vanity talking. But neither are my shoes, my lack of makeup, and gift. And I’m sure if I sat down for five minutes, I might be able to think of a few other ways I’m lacking.
‘Look,’ Sally begins again. ‘It’s not that I mind what you wear, and I can’t imagine Amber will give a stuff either. It’s a family wedding at our home, not some celebrity affair. But you want to be comfortable, don’t you, darl?’
‘Yes, of course, but I don’t want Rafferty to have to buy a dress for me.’ My gaze slides to him imploringly. ‘We’ve talked about this, haven’t we?’
‘You talked. I listened.’ He also shrugs. ‘I still think you should let me buy you a dress.’
‘There, see. We should go shopping.’
‘No, it’s really nice of Rafferty to offer, but—’
