grandmother moving about, talking softly to herself in Polish. I longed to be in there with her, smiling and nodding and not understanding a word she said.
Mrs Ryzner and the twins were out putting up posters. ‘I'd be helping them, but someone has to be here to catch the phone, you see … if it rings …’ Mr Ryzner had tried to smile when he said this. It was horrible.
‘And this is one of Abby and her mum … it's amazing; she's as tall as Ann now, isn't she …’
Suddenly I knew that I would disintegrate if I sat there another moment. I jumped up, scraping my chair back. ‘Um, Mr Ryzner – I'll be right back, I have to go to the loo.’
He nodded, frowning down at the photo like it held the answer to a cosmic puzzle.
After I used the upstairs toilet, I washed my hands in cold water, staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked hunted. I didn't want to go downstairs again, not for anything. But I couldn't stay up here, could I?
I glanced longingly at the window. There was a tree outside … Oh, right! Ems makes her great escape, scampering nimbly, squirrel-like, to the ground. I sighed and dried my hands on a soft red towel. No.
Ems
wouldn't even be here. It was just me, Emma, completely awkward as always.
Finally I couldn't put it off any longer. I opened the door and stepped back into the familiar corridor. Family pictures of Ryzners stretching back four generations covered the walls like a patchwork quilt.
Abby's room was the second on the right.
I didn't mean to go into it. It was the last thing I wanted to do, actually. But it drew me like a magnet. I walked the few steps to her room, and put my hand on the doorknob.
I paused, glancing down the corridor towards the stairs. And then I eased open the door.
The familiar riot of colour jumped out at me. It looked just the same. I slipped into the room and closed the door, plunging back in time as I took in the overflowing bookshelves, the walls covered with fantasy images.
If you added up all the time I had spent in here, I bet it would be months. Years.
She had a
Lord of the Rings
poster; that was new. I looked at the gorgeous guy who played Legolas, with his liquid dark eyes, and remembered how entranced I had been by the first film when I saw it last year. Or would have been, if I hadn't been so worried about Jo and Debbie loathing every second. They were actually
laughing
in parts of it. Gingerly, I sat on the bed, staringaround me. I used to sleep over here practically every other weekend. We'd sit up and talk until three in the morning. I saw Abby lying in bed with her arms crossed under her head, her thick dark hair fanned out across the pillow.
Imagine you could build your own private world – what would it be like?
Um, let me think. It would be a water world, with lots of tropical islands, as far as the eye can see … turquoise blue water shimmering everywhere.
And warm, right? It has to be warm!
Oh yeah, blazing sun. And you'd ride to other islands on sort of like unicorns, but they'd swim …
What, like mer-unicorns?
Yeah, why not? Mericorns.
Sounds great. Plunging through the water …
Galloping over the waves … And there'd be palaces rising up out of the water, too, built of – you know, that glisteny stuff inside of shells …
Emma, you should write a story about this! It sounds fantastic, really great …
I swiped angrily at my eyes and jumped from the bed, ready to dash downstairs and throw some excuse at Mr Ryzner,
any
excuse as to why I had to go home, right now. But then my gaze caught on Abby's dresser. In the middle of a display of photos of family and friends, there was a photo of the two of us, in a carved wooden frame.
I walked over and picked it up.
The photo looked lushly leafy and green, with Abby and I both barefoot, smiling into the camerawith our arms around each other's shoulders. I remembered that day – it was when Mum had taken us to the New Forest when we were eight.
It was all so simple then.
As
Mrs Ryzner and the twins were out putting up posters. ‘I'd be helping them, but someone has to be here to catch the phone, you see … if it rings …’ Mr Ryzner had tried to smile when he said this. It was horrible.
‘And this is one of Abby and her mum … it's amazing; she's as tall as Ann now, isn't she …’
Suddenly I knew that I would disintegrate if I sat there another moment. I jumped up, scraping my chair back. ‘Um, Mr Ryzner – I'll be right back, I have to go to the loo.’
He nodded, frowning down at the photo like it held the answer to a cosmic puzzle.
After I used the upstairs toilet, I washed my hands in cold water, staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked hunted. I didn't want to go downstairs again, not for anything. But I couldn't stay up here, could I?
I glanced longingly at the window. There was a tree outside … Oh, right! Ems makes her great escape, scampering nimbly, squirrel-like, to the ground. I sighed and dried my hands on a soft red towel. No.
Ems
wouldn't even be here. It was just me, Emma, completely awkward as always.
Finally I couldn't put it off any longer. I opened the door and stepped back into the familiar corridor. Family pictures of Ryzners stretching back four generations covered the walls like a patchwork quilt.
Abby's room was the second on the right.
I didn't mean to go into it. It was the last thing I wanted to do, actually. But it drew me like a magnet. I walked the few steps to her room, and put my hand on the doorknob.
I paused, glancing down the corridor towards the stairs. And then I eased open the door.
The familiar riot of colour jumped out at me. It looked just the same. I slipped into the room and closed the door, plunging back in time as I took in the overflowing bookshelves, the walls covered with fantasy images.
If you added up all the time I had spent in here, I bet it would be months. Years.
She had a
Lord of the Rings
poster; that was new. I looked at the gorgeous guy who played Legolas, with his liquid dark eyes, and remembered how entranced I had been by the first film when I saw it last year. Or would have been, if I hadn't been so worried about Jo and Debbie loathing every second. They were actually
laughing
in parts of it. Gingerly, I sat on the bed, staringaround me. I used to sleep over here practically every other weekend. We'd sit up and talk until three in the morning. I saw Abby lying in bed with her arms crossed under her head, her thick dark hair fanned out across the pillow.
Imagine you could build your own private world – what would it be like?
Um, let me think. It would be a water world, with lots of tropical islands, as far as the eye can see … turquoise blue water shimmering everywhere.
And warm, right? It has to be warm!
Oh yeah, blazing sun. And you'd ride to other islands on sort of like unicorns, but they'd swim …
What, like mer-unicorns?
Yeah, why not? Mericorns.
Sounds great. Plunging through the water …
Galloping over the waves … And there'd be palaces rising up out of the water, too, built of – you know, that glisteny stuff inside of shells …
Emma, you should write a story about this! It sounds fantastic, really great …
I swiped angrily at my eyes and jumped from the bed, ready to dash downstairs and throw some excuse at Mr Ryzner,
any
excuse as to why I had to go home, right now. But then my gaze caught on Abby's dresser. In the middle of a display of photos of family and friends, there was a photo of the two of us, in a carved wooden frame.
I walked over and picked it up.
The photo looked lushly leafy and green, with Abby and I both barefoot, smiling into the camerawith our arms around each other's shoulders. I remembered that day – it was when Mum had taken us to the New Forest when we were eight.
It was all so simple then.
As
Similar Books
