Read Online Perfect Daughter by Amanda Prowse - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Prowse
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You have made this situation and it’s unfair. I’ve never met anyone so selfish!’ She wished they would stop.
Jacks rocked her mum back and forth, trying to put the memories from her mind. She often wondered why her mum had felt the need to be so sharp, judgemental. Her anger seemed to come in bursts, often followed by bright smiles and acts of kindness intended to wipe the slate clean. A sneering laugh at what she considered to be a minor achievement of her husband’s could be countered by an apple pie, freshly baked for tea. A sharp dig in the ribs as Don leant in for a cuddle or a kiss was made better by the knitting of a scarf and matching hat, delivered with a wide smile. And as far as Jacks could see, these peace offerings did the trick. Her dad would beam and nod, as if grateful for his wife’s benevolence, the status quo restored. If only Jacks could find it that easy to forget.
The front doorbell rang. ‘Back in a sec, Mum. There’s someone at the door.’
Jacks released her gently and trod the stairs, only to see that Martha had abandoned her studies and beaten her to it. She was standing at the open front door. Jacks hovered halfway down and stared at her daughter, watching her in profile. She felt her stomach sink. Call it a mother’s intuition, but though Jacks observed her for no more than five seconds, what she saw filled her with fear.
‘Steph said you weren’t coming out?’ The boy spoke with a strong Weston accent. He was gripping a motorbike helmet in his hand and let it bounce against his thigh. He was broad and tall, taller than Pete, slim, wearing jeans and a fitted grey T-shirt that hugged his toned physique. His glossy straight hair sat on his shoulders, his fringe partially obscuring his right eye. He sounded assured, comfortable. This clearly wasn’t the first time they had met.
‘S’right.’ Martha twisted her legs as she nodded with her head tilted to one side and her mouth breaking into a smile. They stared at each other during the silent pauses as if they carried a secret.
Jacks heard his easy laugh from the other side of the step, a laugh full of meaning, anticipation and happiness. She didn’t know who he was, but she instantly hated the way Martha looked at him, disliked the shy, coquettish slant to her daughter’s head as her eyes gazed up at him through voluminous lashes, her lips pouting and her gentle blush screaming out, ‘Like me! Love me!’ Jacks wanted to slam the door shut, take her daughter’s head in her hands and twist her face away from him, screaming, ‘Not him! No! Not anyone from here! You need to wait! Wait for that boy you will meet at university who will be smart and well read, someone who will become a professional and who will take you to the south of France on a camping holiday and who will buy you a conservatory!’ Instead, she smiled, tripped down the stairs and stared at the boy in the leather jacket with the long hair and perfect teeth who stood on the front-door mat.
‘Hello there!’
The boy raised his hand in a confident wave and Martha rolled her eyes as if apologising to him.
Jacks ignored her daughter and stepped closer to them. ‘Nice to meet you, but I’m afraid we’re all about to have tea, otherwise I’d invite you in.’
‘Oh, no worries, Mrs D, I was off now anyway, just wanted to see Martha.’
‘And now you have.’
Martha smiled as she bit her bottom lip.
Jacks wasn’t sure she liked being called Mrs D, but she had to admit the boy had charm.
‘Later,’ Martha mumbled as a blush rose up her cheek. When the door closed behind him, Martha threw a pointed look at her mum, as if daring her to say anything as she flounced up the stairs, a small smile playing around her mouth.
Jacks placed the bowl of chilli in the middle of the table and the saucepan of disgustingly overcooked rice next to that.
‘Let me get you some tea.’ She lifted Ida’s plate and placed a small mound of rice on it with a scoop of
Jacks rocked her mum back and forth, trying to put the memories from her mind. She often wondered why her mum had felt the need to be so sharp, judgemental. Her anger seemed to come in bursts, often followed by bright smiles and acts of kindness intended to wipe the slate clean. A sneering laugh at what she considered to be a minor achievement of her husband’s could be countered by an apple pie, freshly baked for tea. A sharp dig in the ribs as Don leant in for a cuddle or a kiss was made better by the knitting of a scarf and matching hat, delivered with a wide smile. And as far as Jacks could see, these peace offerings did the trick. Her dad would beam and nod, as if grateful for his wife’s benevolence, the status quo restored. If only Jacks could find it that easy to forget.
The front doorbell rang. ‘Back in a sec, Mum. There’s someone at the door.’
Jacks released her gently and trod the stairs, only to see that Martha had abandoned her studies and beaten her to it. She was standing at the open front door. Jacks hovered halfway down and stared at her daughter, watching her in profile. She felt her stomach sink. Call it a mother’s intuition, but though Jacks observed her for no more than five seconds, what she saw filled her with fear.
‘Steph said you weren’t coming out?’ The boy spoke with a strong Weston accent. He was gripping a motorbike helmet in his hand and let it bounce against his thigh. He was broad and tall, taller than Pete, slim, wearing jeans and a fitted grey T-shirt that hugged his toned physique. His glossy straight hair sat on his shoulders, his fringe partially obscuring his right eye. He sounded assured, comfortable. This clearly wasn’t the first time they had met.
‘S’right.’ Martha twisted her legs as she nodded with her head tilted to one side and her mouth breaking into a smile. They stared at each other during the silent pauses as if they carried a secret.
Jacks heard his easy laugh from the other side of the step, a laugh full of meaning, anticipation and happiness. She didn’t know who he was, but she instantly hated the way Martha looked at him, disliked the shy, coquettish slant to her daughter’s head as her eyes gazed up at him through voluminous lashes, her lips pouting and her gentle blush screaming out, ‘Like me! Love me!’ Jacks wanted to slam the door shut, take her daughter’s head in her hands and twist her face away from him, screaming, ‘Not him! No! Not anyone from here! You need to wait! Wait for that boy you will meet at university who will be smart and well read, someone who will become a professional and who will take you to the south of France on a camping holiday and who will buy you a conservatory!’ Instead, she smiled, tripped down the stairs and stared at the boy in the leather jacket with the long hair and perfect teeth who stood on the front-door mat.
‘Hello there!’
The boy raised his hand in a confident wave and Martha rolled her eyes as if apologising to him.
Jacks ignored her daughter and stepped closer to them. ‘Nice to meet you, but I’m afraid we’re all about to have tea, otherwise I’d invite you in.’
‘Oh, no worries, Mrs D, I was off now anyway, just wanted to see Martha.’
‘And now you have.’
Martha smiled as she bit her bottom lip.
Jacks wasn’t sure she liked being called Mrs D, but she had to admit the boy had charm.
‘Later,’ Martha mumbled as a blush rose up her cheek. When the door closed behind him, Martha threw a pointed look at her mum, as if daring her to say anything as she flounced up the stairs, a small smile playing around her mouth.
Jacks placed the bowl of chilli in the middle of the table and the saucepan of disgustingly overcooked rice next to that.
‘Let me get you some tea.’ She lifted Ida’s plate and placed a small mound of rice on it with a scoop of
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