“Who the fuck is this fucker?” she cheered, and caught Eli in a stranglehold of a hug.
Eli coughed, and slapped her on the back.
“So you’re the Sheffy lad, then, you’re our Rob’s Eli, are you? Get inside, fucktards, it’s motherfucking freezing!”
Inside was the opposite of the grim outside: low-ceilinged, with exposed dark beams and warped wooden flooring. They were taken straight into a living room flickering in the warm glow of an open fire, and stuffed to the gills with odds-and-ends, rugs and afghans, squashy mismatched chairs and battered old furniture. This, Eli liked, and he offered Shawna a smile as she shoved him into the depths of a ludicrously soft sofa.
“Mam! Mam, ye divvy, Rob ‘n’ Danny are ‘ere wi’ Rob’s slag!”
“Shawna, you watch your fucking mouth!” came the roared reply from somewhere upstairs.
Rob sniggered, dropping down beside Eli.
Shawna shrieked back and vanished.
“You’ll get used to ‘em,” Rob said casually.
“So Shawna’s your cousin?”