Page 20 of The Whole Package

I glanced back to see my dad still belly-laughing, mouthing ‘fucking Costa’ to himself in the car as he signalled and drove off.

I entered the community centre, briefly relieved to be out of the chill Gorbals winter – but the noise of chaos in the background stirred something in my stomach. Loud voices echoed alongside clattering and banging from the kitchen. The screech of chairs, the clang of cutlery. I stood at the threshold, praying for my dad to come back.

‘Harri!’ Mum’s faded blonde ponytail swung out of a doorway in the distance. ‘Mon then. We’ve got mouths to feed!’

I swallowed and moved forward, suddenly hyper-aware of myself. My hair – a fucking frizzy birds’ nest, with not a pair of straighteners in sight to style it at my parents’ home. My white fur coat looked far too clean, and my boots far too new for this scuffed and basic environment. I kept my head down, hoping no one would look too closely, hoping no one would recognise me, and hoping – selfishly – that no one would ask for a selfie. But the manners ingrained in me as a child were too strong to be rude to others, and I smiled automatically as I passed a sturdy older woman rushing by with a large pot. ‘Hello,’ I said quietly.

She didn’t even look at me. Just barged straight into my side, sending me stumbling.

‘Sorry—’ I began, more out of habit than anything else.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t turn. Didn’t apologise.

I stared after her, stunned.

‘Awk, sorry, Ina – this is my daughter, Harri. I’ll get her set up,’ Mum said briskly, already moving past me.

‘She banged into me,’ I said, incredulous, tearing off my coat as the heat of the kitchen and the rage I felt at Ina’s ill manners made me flush.

‘You were in her way.’ Mum kept her voice low as she headed for the sink. ‘Look, Ina runs the soup kitchen. It’s her boy Jamie’s own charity. She’s done loads of work for the community. So just get your head down and start peeling, hen. You focus on the soup, I’m making steak pie.’ She pulled my jacket from my hands and hung it on the coat hook by the door.

I glanced around the stainless-steel kitchen. I felt suddenly ridiculous. Then I went back to the carrots, suddenly questioning how you actually hold a peeler. I’d done this every day, but not here. Not in this environment. Everyone else moved automatically; a group of women chopped, stirred and shouted across the room at one another as practised and efficient as if they’d done this a thousand times before.

Meanwhile, I was standing there, completely static. Completely aware that my boots cost more than my dad’s car, I didn’t know where to start. My mum genuinely wanted to be here; she laughed with the women at their own insider jokes, moved with the same brisk purpose. Meanwhile, I had never felt so out of place.

‘Hello, ladies!’ The voice boomed across the room as a tall young man walked in carrying a box of cheap Christmas decorations. He was broad-shouldered, dark-haired and wrapped in a North Face jacket that had clearly seen better winters. ‘And you, Brian,’ he added, nodding at the only other man in the room.

‘Oh, are the decs going up, son?’ Ina said, her face cracking into something like a smile for the first time.

‘Aye, Mam. Picked some new ones up from Home Bargains to add to last year’s.’

I felt my stomach drop. I had boxes of decorations in storage that cost more than the average summer holiday, and people here were getting excited about gaudy plastic.

The man set the box down and began unpacking battered tinsel and mismatched baubles without ceremony, already moving as if he knew exactly where everything belonged.

He didn’t look at me. Not once.

‘Get on with it.’ Mum nudged me. ‘Hurry up, nosy!’

I sighed and began peeling a few carrots, then chopped them for the pot. The sooner I was finished, the sooner I could get out of here, I thought.

‘Thinner than that,’ Ina’s son said as he passed behind me. ‘You’re wasting half the carrot, new girl.’

Cheeky bastard! Anger prickled up my neck. ‘I think I know how to peel a vegetable.’

‘I didn’t say you didn’t.’

I looked up properly then. Instantly noticing his dark eyes, stubbly jaw and that stupid calm expression. And it clicked instantly.

Train boy.

The weird ned guy in the tracksuit from yesterday – the one who’d basically waterboarded me mid-panic attack.

My grip tightened around the peeler. Oh, you have got to be kidding me!

He must’ve recognised me too because his mouth twitched at the side slightly, like he was trying not to laugh.

‘You.’ I said flatly.