‘You’re a student?’ Barry looked confused.
Cameron chuckled. ‘I know I look a bit older than most. I’m a mature student. I missed uni the first time around. No one in my family went to university so getting a job was the normal thing to do. But however hard I worked I just couldn’t seem to progress. I found it was a stumbling block in a number of things. People looked down on me. So I decided to retrain as a computer engineer.’
‘Right,’ said Barry. Ros was holding her breath. ‘Well, good on you for wanting to better yourself.’
‘Thank you,’ said Cameron with a wink at Ros, who was growing increasingly uncomfortable with his maverick approach of telling the truth.
‘But I’m guessing that means Ros here pays when you go out.’
‘Sometimes,’ said Cameron. ‘But we don’t go anywhere expensive. Yesterday we went to the park.’
‘Hmm.’ Barry didn’t look convinced. ‘Are you living in student digs?’
‘A house in Portswood. There’s six of us sharing.’
‘Ros’s penthouse flat must make a nice change then.’
‘Dad!’ said Ros. ‘That’s really unfair. He’s only been to my apartment once.’ At least that was true. ‘Cameron will likely get an excellent job when he graduates and until then what does it matter who pays for stuff? And it’s not a penthouse just because it’s on the top floor.’
‘You’re already thinking long-term then,’ said Barry, seeming surprised.
‘Yes,’ said Ros firmly.
‘I’m sorry, Cameron, if I was rude,’ said Barry. ‘But Ros here is very special to me. I think dads and daughters have a unique bond and her being an only one just intensifies my protective nature.’
‘I understand. No apology needed. I hope I’m the same when I’m a dad.’
Ros could not believe it. Cameron had walked straight into the children conversation. Had he not paid any attention during their flip chart session?
‘You want kids?’ asked Barry with a quizzical look on his face.
‘Definitely,’ said Cameron.
Barry gave Ros the side-eye. ‘Before you say anything, Dad. Yes, we’ve discussed this and Cameron knows how I feel about children. I think it’s time for pudding.’
Cameron hastily replaced his cutlery as Ros whisked his plate away and stormed out. This was not going well. Ros plonked the plates down on the worktop and was startled when Cameron appeared with the gravy boat. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked in hushed tones.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ros was incredulous and struggled to keep her voice to a whisper. ‘You went off piste. Like not even a little bit off into fresh snow. This was skiing with abandon through loads of trees and into a car park.’
‘What?’
‘I took the skiing analogy too far. My point is Dad now thinks you’re a gold digger so he’s going to be worried about who I’m with instead of happy I’m not alone. This was a bad idea. I might have to murder Darla.’
‘Calm down,’ said Cameron. ‘I think you’re overreacting,’ he added as she started to pace around the kitchen.
‘Do you not see that we’ve made the situation worse?’
‘How?’
‘Either we carry on with this charade in which case he thinks I’ve hooked up with Amber Rose—’
‘Who?’ asked Cameron.
‘Famous gold digger. Dated Kanye West,’ said Ros.
Cameron shook his head.
‘Anyway, if we split up then he’ll die thinking I’ve had my heart broken.’
Cameron was looking over her shoulder. ‘But that’s not going to happen because we’re rock solid.’
‘What are you t—’ Ros didn’t get to finish the sentence because Cameron swooped in and kissed her.
Chapter Eleven
Darla usually had to be up early for her cleaning job that started at six thirty in the middle of Southampton but she did object to a five o’clock wake-up call on a rare day off midweek. She pulled the duvet over her head but the rooster was in full voice. A grumpy Darla stomped downstairs and put the kettle on. She moved the pile of library books she’d picked up to one side and put Keeping Chickens For Dummies on the bottom just in case Elliott stopped by. After a coffee and a long hot bath in the biggest bath she’d ever been in she felt slightly more human. She filled her jugs and went out to feed the animals. She did her usual trick of chucking the food and running. As she bolted from the goat pen and only narrowly missed a pair of horns up her bum she almost ran straight into Elliott.
‘Blimey, you gave me a start. Good morning,’ she said.
‘What are you doing?’ Elliott pointed at the goats who were merrily munching through the food.
‘Feeding the animals.’
‘They don’t eat that,’ said Elliott.
Darla waved a jug at the greedy goats. ‘I think that proves that they do.’
‘I mean they’re not meant to be eating wheat.’
