Read Online Camdeboo Nights by Nerine Dorman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nerine Dorman
Ads: Link
you,” Helen blurted. Damn him, he needed to know.
A pause hung between them then he inhaled sharply. “I know. Helen. It’s complicated. Please don’t discuss this. I want to talk to you , about what’s going on in your life.”
Fuck it. “This is what’s going on in my life, Father. I feel like you’ve just thrown us all away, that you’re more interested in this other woman than us.”
“I’m not throwing you away. Not you, not Damon. I just need some space so I can gain perspective and, anyway, things are not that great here in Joburg, either, in case you’re wondering. I’d rather you and your brother go to a good school out where you are now, in the country, and it is a good school, right?”
“Yes,” Helen mumbled, sullen.
“I love both of you very much.”
“But not Mom.”
“I love her too, but not in the same way like when we first met, if you can understand that. People fall in love and sometimes that love changes because the people change.”
“And you’ve met someone else.”
Another pause dragged between them, followed by another shuddering breath. “Yes.”
Helen had run out of things to say. Her anger deflated and all she could do was stare blankly at the Grecian postcard tacked onto the cork note-board above the phone. Too-blue sky. Too-blue water.
“Okay, Dad, I’ll take good care of us.” She could try. She couldn’t promise anything when she wasn’t even sure she could look after herself.
“I’m glad to know that. It’s crap when you’re suddenly lumped with...”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. A movement out of the corner of her eye told Helen her grandmother stood in the doorway leading from the dining room, listening. She was too wound up to get angry that the woman eavesdropped so obviously. Too much was going on right now.
Helen wanted to say, “Like your father ducked out when you were little,” but didn’t. A snippy comment like that may push him away from her. She wanted to hate him. No, she needed to hate him, but couldn’t. Helen swallowed her negativity instead and babbled, summoning anecdotal bits from her first week at the new school.
She neglected to mention Odette and the others, or Arwen’s family. Helen certainly did not tell her father about the mysterious boy who’d climbed onto the balcony. Hell, she didn’t even want Anabel to know about that.
Helen pretended she was an ordinary teenager and pitched a false smile in her voice as she babbled. Lying was easy. If only she could believe her own lies. If only her mother would pull out of the fog shrouding her mind. If only she could see a way forward out of this mess.
Chapter 11
The Cemetery
“Where’re you going, Arwen?” her mother asked after they finished drying and packing the dishes.
“I’m going to visit the new kids.” She couldn’t hide her smirk.
Her mother did not suspect a thing. “Well, be good dear, and don’t be too late.”
Szandor said nothing, but eyed Arwen from where he sat at the kitchen table, pretending to read his magazine.
He knew perfectly well she was up to something but wouldn’t do anything about it, not if he wanted to have her tell her mother about his visits to Aunt Sonja’s house whenever there was an Esbat or some sort of celebration.
What Mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. Arwen had packed her sling-bag with all her tools earlier and had hidden it in the bushes by the front gate. If her mother did suspect anything, she never let on and, since these things were never discussed in her presence, Arwen assumed they shouldn’t be.
“I’ll be good, I promise,” Arwen said. “We’re watching some National Geographics we took out at the school library.” There was no reason her mother would ever talk to Anabel.
Arwen wanted to laugh.
Szandor frowned at her, tugging absently at his goatee. “Don’t get into trouble.”
“Come now, Szandor, what could we possibly get up to here in this little
A pause hung between them then he inhaled sharply. “I know. Helen. It’s complicated. Please don’t discuss this. I want to talk to you , about what’s going on in your life.”
Fuck it. “This is what’s going on in my life, Father. I feel like you’ve just thrown us all away, that you’re more interested in this other woman than us.”
“I’m not throwing you away. Not you, not Damon. I just need some space so I can gain perspective and, anyway, things are not that great here in Joburg, either, in case you’re wondering. I’d rather you and your brother go to a good school out where you are now, in the country, and it is a good school, right?”
“Yes,” Helen mumbled, sullen.
“I love both of you very much.”
“But not Mom.”
“I love her too, but not in the same way like when we first met, if you can understand that. People fall in love and sometimes that love changes because the people change.”
“And you’ve met someone else.”
Another pause dragged between them, followed by another shuddering breath. “Yes.”
Helen had run out of things to say. Her anger deflated and all she could do was stare blankly at the Grecian postcard tacked onto the cork note-board above the phone. Too-blue sky. Too-blue water.
“Okay, Dad, I’ll take good care of us.” She could try. She couldn’t promise anything when she wasn’t even sure she could look after herself.
“I’m glad to know that. It’s crap when you’re suddenly lumped with...”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. A movement out of the corner of her eye told Helen her grandmother stood in the doorway leading from the dining room, listening. She was too wound up to get angry that the woman eavesdropped so obviously. Too much was going on right now.
Helen wanted to say, “Like your father ducked out when you were little,” but didn’t. A snippy comment like that may push him away from her. She wanted to hate him. No, she needed to hate him, but couldn’t. Helen swallowed her negativity instead and babbled, summoning anecdotal bits from her first week at the new school.
She neglected to mention Odette and the others, or Arwen’s family. Helen certainly did not tell her father about the mysterious boy who’d climbed onto the balcony. Hell, she didn’t even want Anabel to know about that.
Helen pretended she was an ordinary teenager and pitched a false smile in her voice as she babbled. Lying was easy. If only she could believe her own lies. If only her mother would pull out of the fog shrouding her mind. If only she could see a way forward out of this mess.
Chapter 11
The Cemetery
“Where’re you going, Arwen?” her mother asked after they finished drying and packing the dishes.
“I’m going to visit the new kids.” She couldn’t hide her smirk.
Her mother did not suspect a thing. “Well, be good dear, and don’t be too late.”
Szandor said nothing, but eyed Arwen from where he sat at the kitchen table, pretending to read his magazine.
He knew perfectly well she was up to something but wouldn’t do anything about it, not if he wanted to have her tell her mother about his visits to Aunt Sonja’s house whenever there was an Esbat or some sort of celebration.
What Mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. Arwen had packed her sling-bag with all her tools earlier and had hidden it in the bushes by the front gate. If her mother did suspect anything, she never let on and, since these things were never discussed in her presence, Arwen assumed they shouldn’t be.
“I’ll be good, I promise,” Arwen said. “We’re watching some National Geographics we took out at the school library.” There was no reason her mother would ever talk to Anabel.
Arwen wanted to laugh.
Szandor frowned at her, tugging absently at his goatee. “Don’t get into trouble.”
“Come now, Szandor, what could we possibly get up to here in this little
Similar Books
