Reluctantly Home

by Imogen Clark

‘Just for a quick drink,’ replied Pip, hoping against hope that this would be an end to the questions but knowing that it wouldn’t be. ‘That’s nice. Who with?’ It was like going two rounds with the Gestapo sometimes. Pip knew it was perfectly reasonable for her mother to wonder where she was going, particularly when she had so rarely left the farm in the evening since her arrival, but constantly having to account for her movements made her feel claustrophobic and she resented the intrusion. She was tempted to lie, but that would only backfire on her. Better to be honest and ignore the raised eyebrows. ‘Just Jez,’ she said without meeting her mother’s enquiring gaze. ‘Oh,’ replied her mother simply, but Pip could hear the pleasure oozing from the single syllable. Her parents had always thought she’d have been better marrying a nice local boy instead of running off to London, and to be fair, it was starting to look like they might have been right.