The Object of My Affection: My Band Mate's Sister

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy

Brona yawned as she came down the stairs. She was dressed in her favourite pair of drainpipes and a plain black and white striped jumper. This morning was one of the rare ones where she was actually ready on time and didn't have her brother or father chewing off her ear about how they were going to be late. They took their jobs more seriously than she did.

"Mornin', sweetheart," Mrs Harrison said from the bottom of the stairs. It seemed like she had been waiting for her youngest daughter.

"Mornin'," Brona replied with a smile. She stopped at the last step, her eyebrows rising up as a perplexed look fell onto her face. "Mam, it's quarter to six. Why're you up?"

Even though three quarters of the house had to be up at this hour, they'd never expect Louise to be up too. While Harold was pretty much useless in the kitchen, he could make toast and scramble eggs and Brona and Peter, who were both equipped with kitchen skills would prepare breakfast.

"Harold woke me up by accident and I couldn't fall back to sleep," Mrs Harrison told her drearily. Brona nodded, accepting her answer as truthful. "Can you go back upstairs and change? Maybe into that navy skirt with the baby blue coat or maybe that outfit that goes with your black and white chequered coat!"

Brona protested instantly, saying what she was wearing was perfectly fine for work. Brona noted Louise struggled desperately to come up with a reason. She came up with one, which Brona thought was way below the standard of her crafty mother.

"We might be goin' out tonight."

Brona's rose higher. "Define 'might'."

"Brona Harrison, you'll do what I tell you!" and with that Brona swiftly turned on her heel and marched back up the stairs without another word. Mammy meant business when she used her children’s' names and you wouldn't want to be the one she was addressing if she added in your middle name.

Brona returned ten minutes downstairs ten minutes later dressed according to her given dress code. Harold and Peter were just leaving so she barely had a second to spare. Quickly grabbing her things and passing a "happy now?" comment to her mother, she followed the two out the door and into Peter's car.

~~~~

"What time is Siobhan's man arrivin' at?" Conall asked when he emerged from the back room and into the shop with two steaming cups of tea, one which he gave to Brona.

Brona took the cup gratefully. The heat tickled her fingertips. "Two, I think."

"One resident lost, and another gained," Conall mused, referring to Cynthia, who left for London yesterday. He quickly turned to the brunette in realisation. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," she said simply, lifting her shoulders slightly and taking a mouthful of her tea.

Truth be told, Brona wasn't completely alright. Cynthia and Julian's departure had left her with an overwhelming feeling in the pit of her stomach last night. She came to the conclusion that it was sadness and longing; A longing to be back in the capital.

After a week of adjusting to London, she fell in love with the place. In her school days, she always dreamed of living there and so did most people. It was so full of life and opportunity.

Maybe one day, she thought to herself.

The day begun when the first delivery arrived, the milk for the Baker's, which Conall collected every morning because he had something going on with the milk lady. Whether it was the truth or hopeful wishing, Brona didn't know. He had a tendency to over exaggerate to the truth, especially when it came to birds.