I glanced out of the front window nervously, trying not to make my peeping too obvious.
‘What are you peeping at?’ my daughter asked, frozen with a frown in the kitchen doorway.
‘What?’ I yelped, jumping and spinning around to smile at her. I attempted three distinct smiles before settling on the one that was the most… cool.
‘You look like you’re in pain,’ she said, slowly raising an apple to her mouth. ‘Oh, god, is this a stroke? Is this what a stroke looks like? I thought I had at least another twenty years before I had to worry about stroke signs.’
‘It’s not a stroke,’ I frowned, maternal annoyance cutting through my fluster. ‘No, I’m just… waiting.’
‘Is Dad coming home early?’
‘What? Oh, no… I called someone to do a ducted heating service. Canberra homes, you know…’ I trailed off slightly, turning back to the window.
‘Mum?’
‘What’s that?’ I asked, spinning back to her.
‘Oh my god,’ she sighed, rolling her eyes so forcefully it pushed her head back. ‘You have a crush on the guy who does heater servicing!’
‘I do not!’ I gasped, outraged. ‘How dare you speak to your mother this way!’
‘I don’t see you gawking at the window when the overweight plumber is coming,’ she countered, eyebrow raised. ‘But as soon as you need a heating service, Canberra has to hunker down to avoid your sonic boom!’
‘Is that from one of your comic books?’ I asked with a frown. ‘You know I don’t like you reading those.’
‘And I don’t like you pressing your nose up to the window and drooling over every serviceman who walks down the street!’ she threw her hands up, storming away and up to her room.
‘Excuse me, young lady,’ I called after her, my hands firmly planted at my hips. ‘That’s not fair!’ ‘It isn’t every serviceman!
I waited until I heard her door slam shut and let my hands drop.
‘Just Jason,’ I whispered quietly.