Read Online Looking for JJ by Anne Cassidy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Cassidy
Tags: Fiction, Family & Relationships, People & Places, Juvenile Fiction, England, Social Issues, Europe, Murder, Death & Dying, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Emotional Problems of Teenagers, Emotional Problems, Adolescence, Child Abuse, Emotions & Feelings, Identity, Violence, Law & Crime, Physical & Emotional Abuse, Identity (Psychology)
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playing, and Rosie’s voice humming along.
She sat up. She wanted to be there, in the kitchen, with Rosie. She left the photograph on the duvet and walked out of her room, along the hallway, her throat dry, her eyelids heavy. The kitchen was warm and the air full of the smell of onions. Alice let herself sink into it. When the music stopped Rosie must have sensed Alice there, because she turned round and looked at her with some concern. Alice took the two steps she needed and sank into Rosie’s arms, her head pushing into her soft breasts, her arms clinging tightly.
The counsellors had never really understood. In those early days her mum hadn’t actually abused her. She’d simply deserted her, cast her off. Abandoned her.
The good news came in a phone call from Jill Newton.
Alice was helping Frankie to pack the last of his books and clothes into cardboard boxes. They were lined up in the hallway of the flat, waiting for his dad to turn up for the journey back to Brighton.
The other students had already left for home so the place was almost empty. Alice could hear the echoes of her footsteps as she walked in and out of various rooms, picking up bits and pieces of Frankie’s stuff. All that was left were the basic pieces of furniture: beds and wardrobes, a settee and coffee table, kitchen table and chairs. Several things in the kitchen had to be counted in order to make sure that the students got their deposits back. Alice stood at the cupboards and checked the kitchenware. There was eight of everything, cutlery and crockery. She counted the sauce-pans and the oven dishes and ticked them off the list.
Frankie was in the bedroom putting some papers into a bin bag.
“All done?” she said.
“Um,” he murmured.
Frankie’s mood was not good. She had arrived later than she’d said and he had immediately wanted to know where she’d been, what she’d been doing. When she told him she’d been helping to stocktake at work he’d looked at her with disbelief. Because he had hated any job he had ever had, he expected her to hate hers. She didn’t, though. She liked working in the café. It was all so ordinary. Serving people, making drinks, cutting slices of cake or using the silver tongs to pick up the syrupy Danish buns. It didn’t bother her if the manager asked her to stay on for a short while, to help out with other things. But Frankie had been waiting, and demanded to know where she had been. His questions had an undertone, as though he thought she hadn’t been at work at all.
“How long till your dad gets here?” she said, trying to ignore his mood.
She walked up behind him and put her arms around his broad back. She could feel the tension in his muscles, so she hugged tightly, rubbing her face on the back of his T-shirt. He was so warm, so solid. She loved the feel of him, the fact that he was big and could shake her off in a second if he wanted.
“About an hour,” he said, his voice softening as he turned towards her, his arms folding across her back, half lifting her off the ground. She tilted her face up to look at him and felt her eyes blur as he leaned down to kiss her. Her eyes closed and her lips opened as she waited for his mouth to touch hers.
The ring tone of her mobile sounded. She pulled back, the sound startling her. She still wasn’t used to having a mobile, let alone receiving calls. Frankie let her go, his face on the edge of a pout.
“Who’s that?” she said needlessly.
She walked back out into the hallway where she’d left her bag and rummaged through it until she produced the mobile. On the screen was the name Jill . From back in the bedroom she could hear the plastic sacks being dragged across the floor and dumped by the door.
“Hello?” she said, uncertainly.
“Alice,” Jill said. “How are you?”
“Fine. Is anything wrong?”
That was her first thought. She stood in the hallway, the mobile clamped to her ear, and imagined the worst. She had been
She sat up. She wanted to be there, in the kitchen, with Rosie. She left the photograph on the duvet and walked out of her room, along the hallway, her throat dry, her eyelids heavy. The kitchen was warm and the air full of the smell of onions. Alice let herself sink into it. When the music stopped Rosie must have sensed Alice there, because she turned round and looked at her with some concern. Alice took the two steps she needed and sank into Rosie’s arms, her head pushing into her soft breasts, her arms clinging tightly.
The counsellors had never really understood. In those early days her mum hadn’t actually abused her. She’d simply deserted her, cast her off. Abandoned her.
The good news came in a phone call from Jill Newton.
Alice was helping Frankie to pack the last of his books and clothes into cardboard boxes. They were lined up in the hallway of the flat, waiting for his dad to turn up for the journey back to Brighton.
The other students had already left for home so the place was almost empty. Alice could hear the echoes of her footsteps as she walked in and out of various rooms, picking up bits and pieces of Frankie’s stuff. All that was left were the basic pieces of furniture: beds and wardrobes, a settee and coffee table, kitchen table and chairs. Several things in the kitchen had to be counted in order to make sure that the students got their deposits back. Alice stood at the cupboards and checked the kitchenware. There was eight of everything, cutlery and crockery. She counted the sauce-pans and the oven dishes and ticked them off the list.
Frankie was in the bedroom putting some papers into a bin bag.
“All done?” she said.
“Um,” he murmured.
Frankie’s mood was not good. She had arrived later than she’d said and he had immediately wanted to know where she’d been, what she’d been doing. When she told him she’d been helping to stocktake at work he’d looked at her with disbelief. Because he had hated any job he had ever had, he expected her to hate hers. She didn’t, though. She liked working in the café. It was all so ordinary. Serving people, making drinks, cutting slices of cake or using the silver tongs to pick up the syrupy Danish buns. It didn’t bother her if the manager asked her to stay on for a short while, to help out with other things. But Frankie had been waiting, and demanded to know where she had been. His questions had an undertone, as though he thought she hadn’t been at work at all.
“How long till your dad gets here?” she said, trying to ignore his mood.
She walked up behind him and put her arms around his broad back. She could feel the tension in his muscles, so she hugged tightly, rubbing her face on the back of his T-shirt. He was so warm, so solid. She loved the feel of him, the fact that he was big and could shake her off in a second if he wanted.
“About an hour,” he said, his voice softening as he turned towards her, his arms folding across her back, half lifting her off the ground. She tilted her face up to look at him and felt her eyes blur as he leaned down to kiss her. Her eyes closed and her lips opened as she waited for his mouth to touch hers.
The ring tone of her mobile sounded. She pulled back, the sound startling her. She still wasn’t used to having a mobile, let alone receiving calls. Frankie let her go, his face on the edge of a pout.
“Who’s that?” she said needlessly.
She walked back out into the hallway where she’d left her bag and rummaged through it until she produced the mobile. On the screen was the name Jill . From back in the bedroom she could hear the plastic sacks being dragged across the floor and dumped by the door.
“Hello?” she said, uncertainly.
“Alice,” Jill said. “How are you?”
“Fine. Is anything wrong?”
That was her first thought. She stood in the hallway, the mobile clamped to her ear, and imagined the worst. She had been
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