Right Number, Wrong Girl

SOPHIE: I do believe I heard that mentioned once or twice.

SOPHIE: Does she know she doesn’t need to shout into the phone? Helena is about to go deaf. I’M about to go deaf.

Yes.

Grandma did know.

She also did not care.

ME: She is aware.

SOPHIE: So it’s deliberate.

ME: You’ve spent enough time with her to know that nothing she does is accidental. You’re going to have to have lunch with her tomorrow, by the way.

SOPHIE: Yep. That’s been mentioned, too.

SOPHIE: Does your family usually treat people they hire like this?

I laughed. Loud.

No.

Never in my life had anyone in my family ever treated someone we’d hired in this manner. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a conspiracy afoot, but I was pretty sure it was really just down to the fact Sophie was the only person alive who could make my grandmother a cup of tea she didn’t want to throw at the wall.

Also, my mother still treated her the way she did anyone else.

ME: Absolutely not. They appear to have taken a shine to you.

SOPHIE: That’s not awkward at all.

ME: Grandma can be a bit of a limpet.

SOPHIE: I suppose I’m having lunch with her tomorrow, then.

ME: I don’t think you have a choice.

“Oh, there you are.” Mum walked into the room. “Do you know where your sister is? I’m expecting her at some point today.”

“Having lunch with Sophie,” I said, staring at my phone.

“Sophie? I don’t know a Sophie. Who is Sophie?”

Shit.

I turned my attention away from my phone and towards my mother who was staring at me expectantly. “A friend of hers.”

“She doesn’t have any friends called Sophie.”

“She’s a new one.” Not a lie.

“Are you friends with her, Hugo?”

That was a loaded question.

“I know her,” I said slowly.

I knew where this was going.