BR - Beth's Home Part 4

In the house, you find Shauna in the hallway with a handful of paint swatches, trying to choose between shades of green.

“Did you have a nice breakfast?” she asks.

“It was good,” you say. The food was weird, but you didn’t hate it. “I’m sorry about this morning. I’d like to try what you made.”

Shauna smiles at you and gives Beth a look.

“If only you’d bring home a young man this polite,” she says.

Beth smiles, showing a lot of teeth. She holds out the bag.

“Take this before I put it in the bin,” she says tightly.

Shauna frowns in the dim hallway. “What is it?”

“Somebody’s gay aunt brought it for you. Edna.”

Shauna gasps theatrically. “Elizabeth! Don’t say that!” She snatches the bag away, and despite her reaction just now, looks pleased. “How nice of her.” She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Did you look inside?”

“What? No. And I don’t bring boys home,” Beth adds, shaking a finger.

“For heaven’s sake. Do you think because I’m not here when you do it I don’t know when someone’s been round? I’m not blind. And I do have a nose,” Shauna adds playfully, pointing at it with her finger.

Beth was already red with barely-suppressed rage. She turns a shade redder.

“Right,” she grits out, not looking at you. But Shauna’s already moving away, down the hallway. “Nobody knows I’m here,” Beth calls after her as she vanishes around the corner. “If I **** you, everyone’ll think it was suicide.”

“Who are we murdering?” Shauna shouts back from another part of the house.

“You, mum!”

“If you’re going to **** someone, don’t do it on the rug. Someone famous said that. I think it was Poirot,” Shauna replies. “I’ve got to nip out a bit, Elizabeth. Riley, dear—don’t let her mope around the house or go to the pub. Make her show you around.”

“It’s Southam, mum. There’s nothing to do here,” Beth yells back.

“There’s loads of things to do.”

“No there aren’t!”

Keys jingle and a door closes. You stand with Beth in the hallway. She stubbornly gazes at the far wall.

“I like your mom,” you say after a long moment.

Beth doesn’t take the bait. She’s pissed, but it’s not just that. She’s worried.

“What is it?”

She hesitates, then tugs at the hem of your shirt and looks up at you. “What do you reckon was in that bag?”

“Well, she’s a florist. Seeds?” you suggest.

“I think it was ****,” Beth says. “That Edna was thin. And mum’s lost weight. Is it heroin?”