Read Online Lemonade and Lies by Elaine Johns - Free Book Online Page A

if things weren’t bad enough. Head on, that was the only way to hit it.
    “Well – it means not working properly, I guess.”
    “And is that us? Is that our family?”
    “Who said that?”
    Millie looked sheepish, as if somehow she’d let me down.
    “It’s just something I heard on TV once, when people were fighting.”
    “But we don’t fight!”
    “I know, but we’re not really normal , are we? We’re an odd number.” She looked sad. And it was the first reference she’d made to her missing dad in a long time.
    “Now you listen to me – we have a good family here. A family can be any number of people – four, six, three, two. I happen to think three is an excellent number. Don’t you?”
    “Yes, Mum,” she agreed.
    And my heart was smothered in sadness for her, for I knew she was just being loyal. And that she’d lost some of her childhood innocence. That bastard ex-husband of mine had stripped it away. If I ever saw him again, he’d pay for that.
     
    *
    “Say hello to George.”
    Alice was wearing huge sunglasses and sporting a baseball cap. Not her style at all, the baseball cap, at least. The Gucci sunglasses were an everyday accessory, sun or no sun. And right now there was no sun, despite what Laura’s mum had predicted. But I expect Alice had the glasses on for another reason. It had been a rough couple of days for her.
    I’d heard the car pull up and gone out to make sure she used my parking space and not my neighbour’s. Our parking permits were very specific about that.
    “Hello George,” I said.
    George waved a casual hand in reply and smiled. He had great teeth, and he looked like a decent bloke.
    “George’s a decent bloke,” confirmed Alice, blowing him a casual kiss. “But he’s off back on the train now. Aren’t you, dearest?”
    “Am I?”
    Apparently he was. She walked him the six steps from my front door to the tiny front gate, the poor man wasn’t even allowed inside the house, it seemed. But with elaborate thanks Alice sent him on his way, putting a wad of notes in his coat pocket, giving his arse a small, intimate pat for good measure.
    “Wow!” I said.
    “Yummy,” she agreed, “but not Einstein.”
    “So, what’s our George’s function then?”
    “Decent bloke.”
    “You said.”
    “Drove my car down overnight. Going back to London now. He’s a dear. Totally, madly in love with me. But we don’t want him hanging around, do we? This is a girly week, right?”
    “Right.” I said and wondered how Alice would feel once she’d made it inside and seen my disfigured furniture.

Chapter 9
     
     
    We parked the kids at one end of the seafront with the holiday club. They both looked happy enough and went off to play a game with a multi-coloured parachute.
    The two of us headed off to set up a beach-head. To mark out our territory on the sand with windbreaks. At least that’s how we started out, but Alice magically disappeared, leaving me to carry all the heavy stuff.
    There was a high surf running, pounding relentlessly away at Chapel Rock. Maybe one day all that collected fury would finally wear away the rock formation. Force it to disintegrate into a million tiny fragments.
    The day was crisp, but bright. The weather had turned, the dour sky finally lightening, the un-seasonal sunshine bringing locals out in their hordes to enjoy this bonus of mild, autumn weather. It happened like that when the sun showed its face unexpectedly. Unexpected for most of us, except of course Laura’s smart-arsed mother.
    The fine weather had also tempted Trevor from his lair.
    Trevor Trebathan was normally in hibernation at this time of year, understandable considering the man was ninety. This impressive Cornishman was in his usual fold-up camping chair in his favourite spot on the seafront, banjo in hand and tiny combi-amp on the concrete beside him.
    Trevor was a feature of Perranporth. Just like Chapel Rock. And in the summer awestruck tourists would gape open-mouthed at