Turn of the Tide | ONC 2023

[7] Found Out

    Thursday came, and for the first time, Sally squeezed into her seat at the Tremaine clan's breakfast table with excitement coursing through her veins. The coffee's earthy essence danced over her tongue, every hot bite of freshly grilled toast brought a field's worth of cereal sweetness on its buttery waves, and the fresh sea breeze was right at hand to delight her senses. Even her father's weekly ranting seemed too blunt to burst her bubble, somehow. Her good mood helped her absorb his comments with perfect peace.

    "These people are filthy rich, Julie! What right have they to be taking more money out of my pocket when they can hardly hop on their blasted yachts for all the cash in theirs?" Jim slammed his coffee mug down, and Ronan clenched his jaw in dread of the inevitable spillage that followed. "How much money does this prime minister of ours make in a year, you reckon?"

    Julie sat at the table, her own mug of tea in hand. "I don't know, Jim. Tell you what, I'll ask him when he next pops round for a chat, aye?" she said as she glared at her husband, nails tapping her cup.

    Her husband folded his paper up and slapped it on the table. "Don't bother, because all that matters is it's a sight more than I make. Guess which one of us is going to be throwing the nets out in the dead of night to keep the lights on now, though? Bunch of champagne-sucking suits, the lot of them." He leaned back in his seat, his eye catching the spill that shook beneath his mug, then looking over at his son. "Ronan, lad, you already put in so many hours on the boat. I'll ask some of the others to fill in the extra time."

    "It's fine, Dad. If you're going out, so am I, no matter what." Ronan nodded, nudging Sally with his elbow. "But for now, me and this one are off to the market. Put your feet up, and try not to talk Mam's ear off before we're back," he said with a laugh, rising from the table to fetch his boots and coat.

    Shaking her head, Julie smacked her husband's arm playfully. "You're twenty-six years too late for that one, son!" She laughed and looked over at Sally, relaxing her face into a soft neutral expression. "Off you trot, then. Stay safe, and stick to the list, alright?"

    Sally surfaced from her deep-dive into her pooled joy. "I will, Mam. See you later."

    Eager to get going from the second she woke up, Sally had left her trainers by the front door so they were ready for her to leap into when it was time to leave. Beside them, Miri sat in her camera bag, and Sally studied the package as she slid into her shoes. It made no sense to bring it out with her, given that Ronan would never let her stop off at the farm to return it whether Flick was still there or not. Yet the thought of leaving it in her room unattended, vulnerable to her parents' prying eyes, twisted her stomach until nausea flooded her throat. Miri was only safe by Sally's side, at least until she could return the camera to its rightful owner.

    She waited outside the house for Ronan to show up in his least mud-stained rubber boots, his hair already messed into tangled waves by the stiff breeze. "Nice to see you show some willing for this," he laughed, threading his stray locks back into place. His eyes locked onto the bag strap looped around her shoulder. "I've got bags on me, lass. You don't need to be bringing that."

    "It's not for shopping, silly," Sally answered, prising open the zips to raise Miri into the gentle morning light. "I just...thought it might be nice to get a few shots of the market in full flow. It's the one time a week this place is actually lively, after all."

    "Whatever you say." Ronan shook his head and tapped his sister on the shoulder, turning her in the direction of the marketplace. "Just make sure you get the proper permissions, alright? I don't want to be prising people off you because your shutterbugging rubs them the wrong way."