Read Online Girl in Profile by Zillah Bethell - Free Book Online Page B

expert on orchids and climate change. “With packets of seeds?”
    â€œOh yes,” the stephanotis claps. “Eleanor would do it. Eleanor would have done it. She carried seeds in an old clutch bag she bought in a Honiton antiques shop. She was a great one for the dahlias.”
    Everyone suddenly has a favourite flower to be saved from extinction.
    â€œYou can’t beat roses.”
    â€œBluebells.”
    â€œSnowdrops.”
    â€œI want troubadours in my wreath when I die.”
    â€œMarguerites.”
    â€œFrom the garage every time. And they were always fucking wilted by the time I got them in the vase.”
    â€œOh my goodness, she said, don’t you just love butter?”
    â€œDandelion’s a weed.”
    My mind’s a blanket. Flowers galorey my husband would bring the morning after, yet I can’t think of a single one.
    â€œTulips.”
    Peter Pan wheels in, his face glistening with too much soap and too many sardines. “Hyacinths for me,” he says. “Every time.”
    My heart ascends a scale in C major, no sharps, no flats. Keep your fingers curved as if you’re holding a mouse. Don’t let him go, don’t let him slip.

Gwen
    Notebook Entry
    RULES TO KEEP THE WORLD AWAY.
    Do not indulge in sensual reverie.
    Do not look in shop windows.
    Do not crave affection where none is to be found.
    Work for one moment, work for eternity.

Letter From Rodin
    My dear Gwen Marie,
    My deepest condolences at your tristesse. I shall come to see you tomorrow in the evening. Remember that life and death revolve in each other’s arms like dancing partners.
    Auguste

Moth
    Pot Noodles
    I place Jamie’s medication carefully in the fridge and turn up my Benefit High Beam cheek-illuminating smile. I can’t wait for these boys to blossom under my parenting skills. A kind word, a bit of sympathy and compassion, that’s all they need.
    â€œSo. It’s a lovely day. Let’s all get out for a walk in the sunshine with Mr Stinks.”
    â€œWho’s that?” Max, a miniature Harry Potter complete with identikit lightning scar on his forehead, looks round warily like he expects some old tramp to come waltzing Matilda through the door.
    â€œOur dog.”
    â€œDoes he shit off all the time?” Jamie grins. “Does he fart in your face? I’ll train him if you like. I’ve trained Max to pee into his own mouth. And he sucks my willy in the bath.”
    My two are giggling hysterically now, but I keep my Benefit High Beam smile on full power. These are shock tactics of course. I’m not in the least fazed by them. “Let’s get going then.”
    â€œI’m hungry,” wails Max. “I want my dinner first.”
    Jesus H, it’s ten in the morning. “Did you have any breakfast?”
    â€œNah.” Both boys bring a Pot Noodle out of their rucksack. “Dad always gives us these.”
    â€œWell, your mother’s back tomorrow so things’ll go back to normal soon I’m sure.”
    â€œShe always gives us these as well, but not Bombay Bad Boy cos it’s too spicy.”
    I boil the kettle, fix the Pot Noodles. Roan and Dove sniff the air longingly, but I remind them that they will be having a proper lunch later – fluffy cheese on toast à la Annabel Karmel.
    Max’s glasses steam up as he scoffs his chicken and mushroom at a temperature saints must burn at. The only other person I’ve known to do this is a girl in primary school who had green snot dangling permanently from either nostril.
    â€œYuk.” I can’t help myself as both boys tip their pots up to their lips to drain the last dregs of sauce. Jamie bends one eye on me while the other travels so far left I feel like I’m in the presence of Mad Eye Moody. Which is a bit of a worry; at the end of Harry Potter everyone cops it. It’s a fucking bloodbath. Even poor old Hedwig blows up in a side