Read Online Deviant by Helen Fitzgerald - Free Book Online Page A

reciprocate, as Abigail felt nothing toward this woman. She wasn’t a relative. She was a random factor in this bizarre equation, but not at all threatening. She certainly
seemed
uncomplicated; her smile was warm, and her clothes were almost old-fashioned: fifties-style, pastel, pretty. She was a lot younger than Grahame—about thirty—with hazel eyes and perfect shoulder-length blonde hair.
    “You are so pretty!” Melanie withdrew from the embrace, holding Abigail’s shoulders to study her. “Look at you! Just like your father. Your eyes! Can you see it, Grahame? She’s
you
! Come in, Abigail; come inside your new home!”

They’re staring at me. I must look like a freak
.
    In the last two days, Abigail had negotiated a non-stop barrage of the alien and unknown: hospital, crematorium, airport, soft-top car, impossibly large salad … nothing out of the ordinary for most people; everything out of the ordinary for a Glasgow street punk. Now, sitting in this vast living room as this stunning woman poured tea for the four of them, she realized she was shaking. The cup rattled against the saucer. She’d never had tea made in a pot before. She’d never drunk tea out of a cup before. Mugs, always mugs. Stained ones. The cup and saucer shared a blue floral pattern. The china was almost see-through. It must have cost a fortune. Grahame and Becky sipped from their armchairs, unable to mask their concern.
    “Are you all right, dear?” Melanie asked.
    She quickly set the cup on the glass table. She clasped her hands together to steady herself. “I’m fine. I’m just a little …”
    “Jet-lagged?” Melanie finished for her. “Don’t apologize!Crossing nine time zones wreaks havoc on the system! It’ll be a few days before your sleep cycle gets back to normal.”
    Abigail smiled. Melanie might as well have spoken in Romanian. Fortunately, perky new Stepmom went back to talking about the renovations she’d just completed.
This room used to have dark brown carpet! Dark brown! Getting the chimney sorted was a nightmare!
Abigail tried to nod politely, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet the curious gazes. Her eyes wandered toward the adjoining library. Through the door, she could see the polished wooden shelves reaching to the ceiling with gorgeous leather-bound books. In the corner was an old fashioned gramophone. The bookcase behind it was stuffed with paper-covered records.
    “Oh, the library renovation was your dad’s project,” Melanie said.
    “I take it someone’s into vinyl?” Abigail asked.
    “I collect seventy-eights,” Grahame explained. “My hobby.”
    Abigail didn’t know what seventy-eights were. If she asked, she had a sense her father might talk about it for hours. She changed the subject to something more important. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, what about school?”
    “Becky went to boarding school in England,” Grahame said. “Rodean.”
    Abigail’s heart sank. She’d heard of Rodean. Poshest girls’ school in the kingdom. In bloody England! Anyone who went there, no matter where they came from, ended up speaking like the Queen. Feck, they were going to send her back to the UK. She’d end up in a dormitory with a bunch of Sloane’s who buy pre-wrapped gifts at Harrods with daddy’s credit card.
    “I was expelled,” Becky said.
    Grahame almost choked on some tea. “It wasn’t right for Becky.”
    Abigail couldn’t help but smile. Score one for her new sister.
    “No, it wasn’t for me,” Becky said, smiling back conspiratorially.
    “So, I phoned Frank Henderson at Marlborough yesterday,” Grahame concluded. “It’s the best girls’ school in LA. Obviously it’s the summer break now, so you have three weeks to get yourself organized.”
    Thank God
. Abigail’s hands finally stopped trembling. She wasn’t going back to the UK. She was staying right here in sunny California. No more need for phony passports or scary customs. And to top it all off, she’d