Winter Wood by Steve Augarde Page B

mum said. ‘It’ll be an afternoon out, and Barry’s really looking forward to meeting you. And Brian, of course. Play nice, eh? I think he’s a bit nervous about it, actually.’
    Yeah, so he should be, thought Midge. But she just sighed and said, ‘OK.’
    Well, he had a pretty flash car, that was something. She heard the toot of the horn and looked out of the sitting-room window to see a new silver Saab pulling up in front of the house. It looked very out of place,and vulnerable, as it nosed between the diggers and the piles of rubble that cluttered the yard. Cool, though.
    Midge watched as the car door opened and a man got out. Blimey. He was
ancient
. Or maybe it was just the white hair. Not very tall, either.
    She stayed where she was as Barry disappeared from view, heard the knock on the front door and her mother’s voice in the hallway.
    â€˜Midge, are you ready? Come on!’
    Oh well, there was nothing else for it. Midge arrived in the hallway, just as Uncle Brian came out of his kitchen door, and then there was the whole embarrassing confusion of who was to be introduced first.
    â€˜Barry, this is Brian . . .’
    â€˜Oh, hi . . .’
    â€˜And Margaret – Midge. This is Barry . . . Barry – Midge, Brian . . .’
    â€˜Hiya.’ Did she shake hands? Yes, apparently she did. A quick impression of pale fingers, a very light squeeze of her hand. Then the inevitable awkwardness of everybody trying to speak at once.
    â€˜Found us OK, then?’
    â€˜Yes. No trouble, thanks, Brian. Well . . . ap-part from . . .’ (Was that a stammer? How nervous could he be?)
    â€˜Don’t tell me – the Ilminster roundabout . . .’
    â€˜Yes . . .’
    â€˜What, no SatNav? I should have thought you could go to sleep in that thing and still arrive safe and sound . . .’ Her mum chipping in.
    â€˜Yes, there’s just one exit too many, isn’t there . . .’ Brian again.
    And then they were all out on the front path, and Barry looked at Uncle Brian and said, ‘I have to say, I c-can’t see much of a family resemblance.’
    â€˜Haha!’ Uncle Brian laughed. ‘No. I
think
you’ve probably made the right choice when it comes to looks.’
    â€˜Well, I sh-shan’t argue with you there.’
    He
did
have a bit of a stammer, then. Wonderful. What a catch. Midge trailed behind the grown-ups, and they all got into Barry’s car – Midge and Uncle Brian in the back, of course, and her mum and Barry in the front. The happy couple. Still, there hadn’t been any gruesome kissing, so that was a plus. And it
was
a very nice car. Like an aeroplane in there, with all its lights and dials.
    She was glad that her Uncle Brian was coming along. He broke the tension somehow, talking easily to Barry about the plans for Mill Farm, how the old cider barn was to become a teashop, with a licensed bar, and how the former stables were being turned into holiday apartments for those who were interested in coming to see the wetlands. He made everybody laugh by saying, ‘And of course, I shall be able to laze around swigging claret all day, and getting paid for my hobby.’
    At one point Uncle Brian reached across and gave her hand an understanding little squeeze. He was a pretty cool guy, thought Midge. Barry, she wasn’t so sure about. She studied the back of his head, occasionally caught his eye in the rear-view mirror andquickly looked away. She knew absolutely nothing about him. What was he – some kind of salesman? She and her mum had never had that promised conversation. There never seemed to be any time to talk.
    â€˜So how’s the music business then, Barry?’ Uncle Brian apparently knew more than she did.
    â€˜Not bad. Plenty of work, at any rate. Get a bit f-fed up with the touring sometimes. And the