Read Online The Last Girl by Penelope evans - Free Book Online Page A

from the very bottom of the stairs. A second later, Mandy has leapt to
her feet. 'Sorry Larry,' I hear her murmur as she passes, and then she's gone,
running down those stairs two at a time by the sound of it. That didn't even
leave me time enough to warn her that if there's one thing Ethel won't allow,
it's people using her phone. She'll be having a fit this very minute if I know
her. But would she say anything to Mandy? It would be better if she did. Better
than saying nothing, and simply chalking up a black mark against her - till the
next time. I chewed that over for a full five minutes, until finally I managed
to calm down.
    'Just this
once won't hurt! That's what I told myself. 'And it won't happen again because
you can tell her all about it when she comes back.' So I plumped up the
cushions where she'd been sitting, got it all nice for her again, and started
thinking of something clever and kind to say when her head popped up in my
doorway again.
    Only she
never came. I must have sat there till going on midnight just expecting that
she would. I sat up until heard her bedroom door closing for the final time,
and realized it was no good.
    So who do I
blame? Myself for not jumping straight in when I should have? Ethel for
interrupting and ruining everything like she always does?
    Or Mandy for
asking a question, then not bothering to come back for the answer?
     
    There's no sense in asking if I slept well. Disappointment
has a way of ruining sleep. It was that lack of consideration more than
anything. She must have known I was waiting. You don't run out in the middle of
a conversation with a person and then just not come back.
    Unless it was
that Ethel kept her talking.
    But even that
was no excuse. I had her first. She should have thought up something to say and
come away.
    If I'd seen
her this morning I would have said something to her. After the sort of night
had, I would have. Maybe that's why she took it into her head to leave the
house even earlier than yesterday. She's the sort of kid who knows when she's
done wrong, after all. It was just possible that she was ashamed to face me.
    All the same,
she was still going to have to come home. And explain. Because by then I'd
realized for myself - a girl like Mandy would never knowingly have caused
upset. If she didn't come back to hear the answer to her very own question then
there must have been a reason for it, and knowing my Mandy, it would have been
a good one.
    That's why I
must have nearly worn my ears out listening for her. But what do you think - I
didn't hear a sound. Not a dicky bird. When nine o'clock came round I had to
admit it was late, even for her. And just like you'd expect I started worrying
about that too. Because there's other stuff I've never had the chance to
mention to her either. About walking about after dark and Finsbury Park not a
stone's throw away.
    I'd been
feeling a good deal better this afternoon; now all of a sudden I was feeling a
good deal worse.
    So that was
my state of  mind  when  late in the evening I pottered downstairs to answer
one last quick call of nature before going to bed. Not that anyone would have
heard a squeak out of me. Even if Mandy was out, it's hardly the sort of thing
you want to advertise. So here was I, tiptoeing past her bedroom door when all
of a sudden it opens, and there she was.
    Well, I don't
know who looked the more shocked her or me!
    'Oh, Larry,'
says she, with a faint sort of smile.
    'Mandy!' I
reply. 'You're back, then.' Actually, I'm shouting at the top of my voice.
Because the truth of the matter is, I'm that pleased to see her, everything
else has vanished from my mind. 'You just got in?'
    'Mmmm,' she
replies - if a half mumble directed at her toes can be called a reply.
    I could have
left it at that, but there was something in the way she was standing clutching
the door and looking at her feet, not me, that made me say, 'Get away. I bet
you've been home all this time, and never let on.' I was