Persuading Austen. Brigid Coady

to throw so that it would make a more satisfying thunk and add to the chips and nicks and scars the kitchen already bore.

      She thought of the expensive smoothie maker in the cupboard gathering dust. It would sound great as it split apart taking bits of wall with it.

      She got half out of her chair.

      No.

      She wouldn’t stoop to their level. What she needed was to show them in no uncertain way what the reality of their life was going to be.

      She sat back down and started to smile.

      Oh, what a great idea, she thought.

      Okay, it was time for some show and tell.

      ***

      Annie looked round the living room, seeing it with new eyes.

      She never realized exactly how big it was.

      Hell, this had better work.

      They’re going to sulk and shout and scream; they’re going to annihilate you, Annie couldn’t stop the fear whispering to her.

      Nope. She shook her head to distract herself. She could do this.

      No matter how much she hated family confrontation she had to do this. Needed to. She had to pull them into line and get them to understand the reality of their situation. She couldn’t keep letting them go down this road to what was toeing the line of bankruptcy even if it meant they’d shout at her. Letting the family fail wasn’t why her mum had left her in charge.

      And maybe she could free herself in the process.

      Annie could feel her shoulders seizing up, rising towards her ears. Her breath was coming fast, her mouth was dry, and her hands were shaking. She felt about five years old.

      There was nothing they could do. Nothing, she told herself. She was a grown-up now. She wasn’t a child.

      She could do this.

      ‘Really, Annie, I don’t know why you are making such a fuss of talking about finances. You do this every year and every year we’re fine.’ Immy was speaking as she walked through the door into the living room. ‘I can’t believe …’ Her words stopped.

      Annie started chewing on her nail as she watched Imogen take in what was before her.

      Or what wasn’t before her.

      Immy’s eyes had widened and her mouth hung open. Then she snapped it shut at the same time as her eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell?’ Her voice was like an arrow and it hit Annie right in the gut.

      How was it that your family could reduce you to a quivering prepubescent mess with a word and a tone of voice?

      Immy’s voice held the memories of Chinese burns and ostracism. It carried with it ties and hooks, ready to clutch at Annie and remind her of how things were supposed to be. How they had always been. The tone of it spoke of where Annie fitted in to the world, her place in the family hierarchy. It told her that she was not to challenge the status quo.

      But that was all changing – had to change. Annie had to stay strong.

      ‘I wanted to show you and Dad how much of our things we could realistically take to the new place. I mean, our new places.’ Annie’s voice started strong but wavered towards the end.

      Damn it, she couldn’t show fear.

      ‘This is some kind of joke?’ Immy’s voice got sharper. Harsher.

      ‘No, it isn’t. This –’ she gestured around the living room ‘– is reality.’