Read Online First Fruits by Penelope evans - Free Book Online Page B

one no-one would miss. That's the impression she
gives, the reason she's so easy . And now here's her mother touching her
ear and telling the world they are a matching pair.
    No-one's ever fooled me like that.
No-one. It's enough to make a person start doubting that she has It ,
suspecting her own judgement.
    But now will someone explain Lydia to
me? Her mother strokes her ear and Lydia just stands there. Worse, she begins
to scowl, shrugging off the touch, pretending the only thing that matters is wiping
the steam off her glasses.
    Mrs. Morris sighs. Then she glances at
me. 'So you're Kate.' And tries to smile.
    She's not happy. But it's not because of
Lydia. You only have to watch them to see she's used to her. It's Gran, who
even now hasn't put away the glare - or said a word.
    Still, I can put that right. A smile can
make up for anything, even Gran. A special one this time, warm and bright as
could possibly be - and as different from her sulky daughter as she would ever
see. Smile then.
    But for some reason, I get it wrong.
It's too much. I smile and Mrs. Morris blinks, as if I had taken a torch and
beamed it unexpectedly in her face. There's a noticeable pause.
    'Well it's lovely that Lydia has managed
to make such a good friend and so quickly. I'm sure she's going to have a lot
of fun.'
    The words are alright, but what about
her eyes and the way they are drifting over Lydia and beyond, avoiding Gran,
avoiding me for that matter? She's taking in the kitchen instead, with all its
steam and general damp; the sodden drawers that refuse to close, and tongues of
lino peeling off the floor as if to lick the walls.
    All at once, It comes into play
and I know exactly what she's thinking. She's asking herself if she really
wants to leave her daughter here, if she shouldn't just walk out and take her beloved
Lydia with her, and never mind the upset. In fact, it's going to happen,
I can tell. Everything is about to go terribly wrong. And there will be only
one person left to take the blame. Me.
    But then, thankfully, it doesn't happen
after all. Someone is here to put a stop to all that. Someone they haven't even
realised is present, watching, listening to everything. It's the steam of
course, clouds of it, getting in the way, keeping him from view. And not even a
sound to let them know he's here.
    Then again, there's no-one as quiet as
Dad when he wants to be.
     But finally, as they always would, the
clouds part, and a voice booms clear through all the awkwardness and doubt,
sending shreds of steam scurrying uselessly into the far corners where they
belong.
    'No need to look so serious, missus.
This little girl is in for the time of her life.'
    This time, it's not just Lydia who
jumps. Watching their faces, eyes suddenly wider than you would have thought
possible, you could believe they were mother and daughter after all. Surprise
seems to have brought out the similarities in them.
    'Take it from me. A few days here, and
you won't know our Lydia. Isn't that right, love?'
    He winks at Lydia, puts out his hand
towards her mother. 'Carr,' he says. 'Keith Carr at your service.'
    It's the way he always introduces
himself. The same words as lots of people use. But Dad is different because Dad
means them. It must be the reason that, as he takes Mrs. Morris's hand in his,
she changes colour, ever so faintly. At the same time, his eyes lock onto hers,
and that's the moment when you know she's lost.
    Blue where you would expect them to be
brown, the centres of my dad's eyes are ringed with a light all of their own.
It's the light that shocks people, light where it's least expected, the same
light that allows him to fix another person's gaze and hold it, as if he will
never let it go. Promising the earth while the world dissolves around them. And
all in a single stare. No there's not a soul alive with eyes like my dad.
    Now he's looking at Lydia's mother, and
here we are again, watching the same old miracle, the miracle of someone
falling,