While waiting for the main course and watching Oliver hoover up what was left of the vine leaves and olives, Scott was bemoaning the plight of the kids he had to teach.
‘Poor little bleeders, I’ve got a couple who have to do stuff every night, English, Science, piano, violin, you name it.’
'Isn’t it better to have parents who give you the chances? I wouldn’t be able to play the flute now if my mum hadn’t pushed me.’
‘Didn’t know you played the flute Vanessa.’ Said Oliver, ‘You any good?’
‘Grade six, not played for years though.’
‘I’d like to be able to do a bit more now, piano and that. Not the way things worked in my family.’
‘You never got pushed to do anything?’
Oliver thought about it for a moment.
‘There was one time, when I was ten my dad said he would buy me a piece of railway track for each goal I scored in our Cubs football team.’
‘How’d that work out?’
‘Scored a hat-trick in my first game and then got put in goal for the rest of the season.’
‘In goal! Didn’t your dad have words with the manager.’
‘My dad was the manager.’
‘Ah.’ Said Vanessa.
‘Nearly had enough for a circle, only needed one more piece for it to join up.’
