Page 27 of Savage Protector
“Fine. No, great, actually. I contacted Glasgow, they were my preferred option. They just confirmed their offer.”
“Hey, good for you.”
“Yes. And…no. They want me to be there by the middle of next month. That’s less than three weeks away.”
“Okay?”
“Not okay. I have nowhere to live. I don’t know anyone in Glasgow. I have no money.”
“You have your college fund. And your grant for the fees.”
“The grant is okay. The university will tell the student loan people that my place is confirmed and they’ll transfer the funds. But as for the rest…”
“Do you know your bank details?”
“Yes, obviously. But there’s nothing in there.”
“There soon will be. We need to go and chat to Frankie. I’ll come over to collect you.”
“I can meet you there. At the castle.”
“Okay, if Megan will let you out on your own. Has the concussion cleared up now?”
Megan has been listening. She gives me a thumbs-up sign.
“She says ‘yes’. When are you free?”
“Is now any good for you?”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be in the hall.”
I arriveat the Caraksay Great Hall exactly nine minutes later and enter to find Zayn is not alone. He’s engaged in a rowdy game of football with two other men and three boys aged about twelve. The table has been shoved up against one wall, and chairs have been pressed into service as makeshift goalposts.
I wait and watch for a few moments, until one of the boys notices me.
“Dad, who’s that?” He points at me in the doorway.
The game stops, and all turn in my direction.
“Ah, you got here.” Zayn jogs over to me. “You remember Ethan, our boss? And this is his brother, Aaron.”
Both men approach, smiling.
“Nice to see you again, Ms Mansour. Are you feeling much improved now?”
“Yes, I am, thank you.”
The other man, Aaron, grins at me. “Good to see you up and about, Ms Mansour.” The boys have clustered around us, too. “These three tearaways are Tomasz, Ethan’s son, my lad, Jacob, and Tony’s son, Robbie.”
One of the boys clutches Ethan’s hand and tugs. “It’s only a girl, Dad. Are we playing?”
Ethan bows his head to speak to his boy. “Tomasz, you know better than that. Where are your manners? Ms Mansour is not ‘only a girl’. She’s our guest and she’s very welcome here in our hall. Apologise, please.”
The lad looks contrite. “Sorry, Dad.”
“Not to me. Apologise to her.”
