Read Online Taking Flight by Sheena Wilkinson - Free Book Online Page A

!’
    â€˜I’m not asking you; I’m telling you.’ Mum indicated right into Fliss’s road.
    â€˜But you don’t even want him.’
    She didn’t deny it. ‘He’s family.’
    â€˜ Family ! God, Mum, you sound like someone from EastEnders .’
    â€˜And you, miss, are going to have to start being nicer to him.’ The ‘miss’ meant she was seriously pissed off.
    â€˜It just spoils everything.’ I thought she was being nice, giving me a lift to Fliss’s in the rain, but it was only a chance to capture me and talk about him .
    â€˜It’s much harder for him, you know.’
    â€˜How?’ I knew how, really. It was like there was Nice Me – normal me, that is – and then there was Nasty Me. And I knew it was Nasty Me saying ‘how?’ like that. I just didn’t know how to shut her up.
    â€˜Oh, come on, Vic. His mum’s in hospital; he doesn’treally know us; you’re treating him like a leper. Do you not feel even a bit sorry for him?’
    â€˜Nope.’ I yanked off my seatbelt. We were nearly at Fliss’s and I wasn’t going to hang around and listen to this for a second longer than I had to. ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘I don’t think he cares about his mum. He’s too –’ I tried to think of a word. ‘ Hard . Like the other day, you were talking about his mum and he just kept on watching TV. He was just like, whatever .’
    â€˜People can feel things without showing it. I remember when my dad died.’
    Oh no, I thought, please don’t!
    â€˜It was so sudden. Just like Gran. I cried for days. I cried till my face was raw.’ She stopped the car and gave a sort of artificial little laugh.
    â€˜And?’ Images of Mum or Dad dying crowded into my mind. Horrific. I tried to push them away. Mum was only thirteen when her dad died.
    â€˜And Gerard didn’t. Not a tear. You should have seen him, Vicky. He handed round tea at the wake, talked to people. He even did a reading at the funeral. And all Mum and I could do was cry. But then a week later Theresa and I sneaked out to the shed – Dad’s shed, we always called it – for Theresa to get a smoke and there he was, in the middle of all the junk and dad’s tools and stuff crying his eyes out.’ She sounded so sad – I didn’t know if it was thinking about her dad or about Gerard, who died in a car crash when he was twenty two and Declan was a baby. And in a minute she might start talking about Gran dying. Declan had cried enough at Gran’s funeral but that had probably been guilt. I had a sudden memory of it, my only time in a Catholic church, watching Declan, Mum, Theresa – everyone but me – say all theprayers and stand up and kneel and everything all at the right time, and me feeling totally out of it. Even though she’d been my gran too.
    Anyway. ‘Can I get out now?’
    She wouldn’t let up. ‘I’m serious. For a start, you can take him with you to the yard. Otherwise’ – as I opened my mouth to argue – ‘I won’t take you near the place.’
    â€˜But Cam’s giving me a lesson on Wednesday. Mum, that is so unfair!’
    â€˜I didn’t say I wouldn’t take you. But Declan’s going too. I think he’s taken to Flight.’
    That was another thing I didn’t want to think about. The way he looked at Flight yesterday. Like he wanted him. Then I remembered how he’d helped me – and I’d hardly even thanked him. I knew I couldn’t win. ‘Well, I suppose. Can I go now?’
    â€˜Yes. But remember – well, just remember. And back for tea. I want you to come with us tonight.’
    Then she let me go, finally.
    * * *
    I sat in the back of the car, plugged into my iPod and ignoring Mum and Declan in the front, though it was clear I wasn’t exactly missing much.
    Mum parked the