Read Online Never Close Your Eyes by Emma Burstall - Free Book Online Page A

her breath. ‘Please do.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Nothing.’
    Freya knew something was wrong the minute she walked in. ‘Are you OK?’
    Mum was standing at the sink running her finger under the cold tap. She looked pale. ‘I cut my finger,’ she said, putting it in her mouth.
    Freya moved to be by her side.
    â€˜It’s all right,’ Mum said reassuringly. ‘I’ll be fine. It was stupid, I was cutting the bread and somehow missed. I’ll be OK in a minute.’
    Freya took her mother’s hand and examined the cut. It was bleeding quite a lot but it was only a nick.
    â€˜Oh Mum.’ She put her arms around her mother, who clamped the finger back in her mouth. ‘Do you need a plaster?’
    Mum shook her head. She wouldn’t look Freya in the eye.
    Freya peered at her. ‘Has something else happened?’
    â€˜No.’
    Freya scanned the room; she didn’t know what she was looking for. ‘Has Dad gone?’
    â€˜About ten minutes ago.’
    â€˜That’s a relief.’
    Mum laughed and Freya felt reassured. Sort of.
    Evie jumped when the doorbell rang. She was supposed to be watching the ten o’clock news except that she wasn’t able to concentrate. Nothing was sinking in. It couldn’t be Neil again, surely? She’d seen enough of him for one day. Before opening the door she whipped off her round, tortoiseshell NHS glasses and smoothed her fair hair, which was tied back in a ponytail. She hated those glasses, they were so ugly.
    â€˜Bill!’ She realised that she must look startled.
    â€˜Am I disturbing you?’
    â€˜No. I thought you were someone else.’
    Bill was her next-door neighbour. She’d known him for years, ever since she and Neil had moved in. She saw that Bill was holding a brown paper bag, which he thrust into her hands. She peered inside. The porch light was on and she could see three smooth, round onions still dusted with earth.
    â€˜I dug them up today,’ he explained. ‘I’ve got masses, a bumper crop. I’ll bring you a pot of my onion relish when it’s ready. It’s going to be the best.’
    She was touched. He often brought her little presents from his allotment – some potatoes here, a bag of apples there – especially since Neil’s departure.
    â€˜I’m not that keen on relishes, to be honest, but thanks for these.’ She smiled. ‘They’re huge.’
    â€˜Ah yes,’ he said, ‘I am rather pleased with them. Mushroom Mack’s dead jealous.’
    Bill, a widower in his early fifties, was a former university professor, fearsomely intelligent. He’d taken early retirement and seemed to spend most of his days either with his nose buried in a book or at the allotment. Mushroom Mack, a fellow allotmenteer, appeared to be the bane of Bill’s life. Bill claimed that he was outrageously competitive while Bill himself couldn’t give two hoots about whose leeks were bigger, but Evie wasn’t fooled.
    â€˜Come in,’ she said.
    Bill was about to say no, she could tell.
    â€˜Please.’ There was a giveaway crack in her voice. She dug her nails in the palms of her hands.
    He frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
    She didn’t reply but led him quickly into the kitchen and put on the kettle. ‘Neil’s girlfriend’s pregnant,’ she blurted while her back was turned. It just slipped out.
    â€˜Oh,’ he said.
    She put a mug of tea in front of him. It was an Emma Bridgewater mug, covered in different coloured spots. She chose the Cath Kidston one for herself, with the tiny pink and yellow flowers and the chip on the handle.
    She sat at the kitchen table, nursing the warm cup in her hands, and glanced at him. He had that intense look on his face that made her slightly nervous. He had deep-set, piercing blue eyes with creases round them and short, silver-grey hair. He was always tanned,