Read Online Breach of Faith by Andrea Hughes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrea Hughes
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Escape. Escape. Putting my hands firmly on the floor, I gave one almighty push …
“Ouch.”
… and opened my eyes, as my head smashed into the wrought iron bed head, images of the recent “Frank dream” still engulfing my mind.
“Bloody hell that hurt,” My eyes watering, I rubbed the bump on my skull and tasted blood from a bitten tongue. Will snorted softly in his sleep and shifted position, but I stilled my rubbing as the ultimate message of the dream finally hit me.
“I have to talk to him. I have to see Frank.”
*
“What are you going to say to him? Martha glanced sympathetically towards where I was perched on the armchair, my head in my hands. Tom was on the other side of the room, playing crashing games with his toy cars, and I kept my voice low.
“I don’t know,” I admitted sighing deeply and finally raising my head. “I still can’t believe I jumped to the conclusion he’s an alcoholic and it was the drinking that killed his poor baby. I have a lot of apologising to do.”
Martha smiled, “well, that’s a good place to start.”
“I think it’ll take a little more effort than just a quick ‘sorry, Frank, and by the way can I have a loaf of raison bread please?’,” I groaned. “I’ll have to work out what to wear.”
Martha looked puzzled, “why do you have to work out what to wear? Isn’t it more important to be honest and sincere?”
I felt my face get hot, “well, yes, but it’s for confidence, isn’t it. I’ll feel stronger in clothes I feel … good in. This is really difficult, you know?”
Martha shrugged, “okay. So what are you going to wear?”
Flashes of last night’s dream pounded my mind, “I thought I’d go the whole hog. Black silky bra and those little knickers that only cover half my bum. They’re nice.”
Martha raised an eyebrow, “were you planning on covering any more skin or are you just trying to get yourself arrested?”
“Of course I’ll cover up,” I replied defensively, not catching Martha’s eye, “probably my … blue dress.”
“The short one? Hmm, yeah, that’ll be great with bare buttocks.”
I glared at Martha, “okay, smart arse, what do you suggest?”
“Smart arse? That’s what they’ll be calling you and your bare backside,” retorted Martha, ignoring my withering stare. “What I really want to know is why does it matter what sort of undies you have on? It’s not like Baker-Boy will see them?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why, Kate? You know I’d support you even if, heaven forbid, you decide to walk there in a gorilla costume, but I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”
I stared at my friend in consternation, “Martha,” I said slowly, as if speaking to a backward child, “I accused a man with cancer of being a selfish alcoholic and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was a child killer. Do you really have to ask why it bothers me.”
Martha patted my knee, “I’m sorry. I do appreciate that you’re upset and embarrassed about what happened but, Kate, why are black, sexy knickers so damned important? What the hell is wrong with white cotton? You’re apologising, not seducing. I truly think you’re blowing this whole situation out of all proportion. Say you’re sorry, he’ll probably be a bit pissed off but, if he’s a true friend he’ll forgive you. You’re not his girlfriend, just a casual friend and a relatively new one at that.”
I sighed heavily and glanced towards Tom who was making a serious effort to poke a toy car up his nose. Grimacing, I turned back to Martha and smiled tiredly, “you’re right, as always. What would I do without you?” I paused, “I guess I’m just tired.”
Martha shrewdly studied my weary face, “you always seem to be tired recently?”
I shrugged and looked away, “don’t worry about me.”
Martha reached out and put gentle pressure on my cheek, forcing me to look at her. “Kate, you do trust me, don’t you?”
“You’re my
“Ouch.”
… and opened my eyes, as my head smashed into the wrought iron bed head, images of the recent “Frank dream” still engulfing my mind.
“Bloody hell that hurt,” My eyes watering, I rubbed the bump on my skull and tasted blood from a bitten tongue. Will snorted softly in his sleep and shifted position, but I stilled my rubbing as the ultimate message of the dream finally hit me.
“I have to talk to him. I have to see Frank.”
*
“What are you going to say to him? Martha glanced sympathetically towards where I was perched on the armchair, my head in my hands. Tom was on the other side of the room, playing crashing games with his toy cars, and I kept my voice low.
“I don’t know,” I admitted sighing deeply and finally raising my head. “I still can’t believe I jumped to the conclusion he’s an alcoholic and it was the drinking that killed his poor baby. I have a lot of apologising to do.”
Martha smiled, “well, that’s a good place to start.”
“I think it’ll take a little more effort than just a quick ‘sorry, Frank, and by the way can I have a loaf of raison bread please?’,” I groaned. “I’ll have to work out what to wear.”
Martha looked puzzled, “why do you have to work out what to wear? Isn’t it more important to be honest and sincere?”
I felt my face get hot, “well, yes, but it’s for confidence, isn’t it. I’ll feel stronger in clothes I feel … good in. This is really difficult, you know?”
Martha shrugged, “okay. So what are you going to wear?”
Flashes of last night’s dream pounded my mind, “I thought I’d go the whole hog. Black silky bra and those little knickers that only cover half my bum. They’re nice.”
Martha raised an eyebrow, “were you planning on covering any more skin or are you just trying to get yourself arrested?”
“Of course I’ll cover up,” I replied defensively, not catching Martha’s eye, “probably my … blue dress.”
“The short one? Hmm, yeah, that’ll be great with bare buttocks.”
I glared at Martha, “okay, smart arse, what do you suggest?”
“Smart arse? That’s what they’ll be calling you and your bare backside,” retorted Martha, ignoring my withering stare. “What I really want to know is why does it matter what sort of undies you have on? It’s not like Baker-Boy will see them?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why, Kate? You know I’d support you even if, heaven forbid, you decide to walk there in a gorilla costume, but I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”
I stared at my friend in consternation, “Martha,” I said slowly, as if speaking to a backward child, “I accused a man with cancer of being a selfish alcoholic and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was a child killer. Do you really have to ask why it bothers me.”
Martha patted my knee, “I’m sorry. I do appreciate that you’re upset and embarrassed about what happened but, Kate, why are black, sexy knickers so damned important? What the hell is wrong with white cotton? You’re apologising, not seducing. I truly think you’re blowing this whole situation out of all proportion. Say you’re sorry, he’ll probably be a bit pissed off but, if he’s a true friend he’ll forgive you. You’re not his girlfriend, just a casual friend and a relatively new one at that.”
I sighed heavily and glanced towards Tom who was making a serious effort to poke a toy car up his nose. Grimacing, I turned back to Martha and smiled tiredly, “you’re right, as always. What would I do without you?” I paused, “I guess I’m just tired.”
Martha shrewdly studied my weary face, “you always seem to be tired recently?”
I shrugged and looked away, “don’t worry about me.”
Martha reached out and put gentle pressure on my cheek, forcing me to look at her. “Kate, you do trust me, don’t you?”
“You’re my
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