✅ My Cousin's Keeper [NaNoWriMo 2021]

73. Our Guest

I was still stirring the gravy when I heard Ffrances's car outside; they must not have needed to talk as much as I had expected. But I knew that this was an important day to Tess, so perhaps she had been in a hurry. She wanted to see how far I would go to meet her demands, and I really hoped this would be enough proof that she could trust me now.

Ffrances took over the cooking again, while I went to set the table. We were having a proper dinner today, a traditional meal, so I wanted us to look like an old fashioned family unit. I didn't know, but I thought that the interloper might feel out of place; his lack of manners would stick out more in a formal setting. So instead of plates on the kitchen table, we were using the dining room with my proper set of silverware and place mats set out for everyone. It wouldn't surprise Ffrances; we did eat like this occasionally, when we had time to make dinner a big occasion, but I couldn't remember if Tess had seen the dining table used for anything other than jigsaw puzzles before. It was certainly the first time I had roasted a whole chicken since she moved in.

"Wow, we're being fancy today?" she said with a smile. She helped out a little with making everything perfect, and explained that although her parents had never seen the need for formal dining at home, she had enough experience of posh restaurants where everybody cared about tradition. She had grown up in a dozen different countries, and learning their traditions was just as important to her as mastering the languages.

"Listen," Tess said, moving a little closer. "I want to say thank you. I know this is hard, and I'm glad you're willing to give Spike a chance. I'm sure you'll like him once you get to know him a bit better."

"Anything for my little girl," I answered carefully. Pursed lips said that she didn't quite like my choice of words, but not enough to spoil the moment with an answer. So I continued: "I just worry about you, and I don't want you to get hurt. And I don't want you to be embarrassed, I think he might not understand if he found out about the problems you've been having. You'll be so surprised that you have an accident like a baby if he tries to kiss you or touch you intimately."

"I don't think I'll have a problem for long," she answered, and my smile was completely genuine. She didn't respond, so I must have understood correctly how this modified trigger was supposed to work. And perhaps more importantly, it looked like it would still work during the day. "Besides, if it carries on I'd have to tell him sooner or later. Own my problems, you know?"

"I know. You're a brave baby. And don't worry, I'm getting it out of the way now so I don't embarrass you in front of your friend. If you want to show him you're a big girl, that's entirely your choice."

Everything was neat by now, the dining room impeccable. We went back into the kitchen and I started to carve the chicken. I noticed that before carrying plates into the dining room, Ffrances left the room for a moment and returned with a narrow brown envelope, which she gave to the young man. He wasted no time in tearing it open and skimming the letter inside. I wanted to remind him how impolite it was to behave like that, but I held my tongue when I realised that Ffrances probably had a better idea what the letter was about, and would probably chastise me if he had a legitimate reason to be excited. So I said nothing as he refolded the letter and stepped out into the hall to put it into his coat pocket.

I nodded to Spike as he joined us at the table, and he seemed polite enough. He even waited for Tess to join us before picking up his knife and fork, showing more restraint than I would have expected from someone like that. There was a little small talk over the food, and both Tess and her friend complimented the cooking. But I was too nervous to pay much attention to the conversation, thinking about all the terrible things that could happen now that I had opened the door to this little pervert. And he became more of a threat in my eyes when he was polite, respectful, and even charming. He could hide his true motives so well that I could have bought the 'gay best friend' act if I didn't know better. There were few enough clues to his depraved background, but I could see him for what he was. He kept fiddling with worn leather bracelet bearing some kind of gang slogan; I could just about make a word that might have been 'Daddy', and hinted about the worst side of gay culture. That messy beard looked like it had never seen a razor, and he was wearing a T-shirt on which I could make out the words 'Death' and 'Finger'. What kind of hooligan would buy something with those words on?