Read Online V for Violet by Alison Rattle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alison Rattle
Ads: Link
corner at the end of the street. I hold back for another minute before I begin to follow her. It’s tricky, keeping her in sight and staying as far back as I can, all at the same time. But it’s exhilarating too; like riding on a roller coaster. My stomach lurches into my throat every time she slows her pace and I think she’s about to turn round.
She walks right down the High Street without even pretending that she thought the shops were open. Once, when she stops to cross the road, I dart into the doorway of Chester’s the grocer’s and stare through the window at the faded packets of Bird’s Custard powder.
The further away from home she gets, the faster Mum starts walking. The park’s right up ahead now. She starts to run, in little bursts, but then she checks herself, rolls her shoulders back and walks at a more dignified pace. She’s desperate to get to where she’s going, that’s for certain.
It’s easy to get closer to her, now we’re in the park. I slink into the trees and weave in and out of the shadows. I’m getting good at this private detective stuff. I even hear her panting a little as she hurries along the pathway towards the bench. I knew she was coming here. Stands to reason they have their own little meeting place, away from prying eyes. A secret tryst for secret lovers.
He’s already waiting for her. I flatten myself against a tree, then I take off my glasses and polish them on the sleeve of my anorak. I don’t want to miss a thing. The man stands up as Mum walks towards him and he holds out his arms to her. She walks right into them and he folds them around her. I forget for a moment to even look at him, I’m so stunned by the sight of Mum melting into the embrace of another man. But then they move apart, and as they turn to settle themselves on the bench, I see his face for the first time.
Bloody hell! I was expecting someone like Dad. Someone grey and battered around the edges. Someone old. This man’s not old. Not Dad old, anyway. He’s got a thick dark beard and dark hair that’s all messy and touching his shoulders. He’s got so much hair in fact, that there’s not a lot of face left to see. But I can tell he’s younger than Mum. Old people are blurry, smudged-out versions of their younger selves, but this man is solid and clear. He’s all shiny and bright like the front cover of a magazine. He’s not dressed like an old person either. He’s wearing a black donkey jacket and a pair of blue denim jeans.
They sit close together, like they did the last time, with their heads almost touching and their fingers entwined. I wish I had a listening device like a proper detective, so I could hear what they are saying to each other. Are they planning on running away together? Does he know about Dad? Does he know about me? And who is he anyway? Where the hell did Mum even meet him? She never goes anywhere.
Suddenly, I hear voices. I turn round, and there’s a couple with a pram walking along the path towards me. I step away from the tree. I don’t want to look like some weird Peeping Tom. I bend down quickly, pretending to look for something in the grass. The couple don’t even notice me. They’re too intent on babbling and cooing to the baby in the pram. I don’t recognise them. They’ve never been in the shop at least. Lucky for Mum, I think. How would she explain it if one of our customers saw her canoodling with another man in Battersea Park? I can’t understand why she meets him here. It’s not exactly hidden away.
I stand up again and peek around the tree. The couple with the pram are a way down the path now and Mum and the man are hugging each other again. At least, Mum has her face pressed against his shoulder and he has his arms around her. It looks like he’s comforting her or something. I’ve got that strange feeling again. I know it’s my mum over there, but this is the first time I’ve ever
really
seen her.
I shouldn’t be spying on her, I know that much.
She walks right down the High Street without even pretending that she thought the shops were open. Once, when she stops to cross the road, I dart into the doorway of Chester’s the grocer’s and stare through the window at the faded packets of Bird’s Custard powder.
The further away from home she gets, the faster Mum starts walking. The park’s right up ahead now. She starts to run, in little bursts, but then she checks herself, rolls her shoulders back and walks at a more dignified pace. She’s desperate to get to where she’s going, that’s for certain.
It’s easy to get closer to her, now we’re in the park. I slink into the trees and weave in and out of the shadows. I’m getting good at this private detective stuff. I even hear her panting a little as she hurries along the pathway towards the bench. I knew she was coming here. Stands to reason they have their own little meeting place, away from prying eyes. A secret tryst for secret lovers.
He’s already waiting for her. I flatten myself against a tree, then I take off my glasses and polish them on the sleeve of my anorak. I don’t want to miss a thing. The man stands up as Mum walks towards him and he holds out his arms to her. She walks right into them and he folds them around her. I forget for a moment to even look at him, I’m so stunned by the sight of Mum melting into the embrace of another man. But then they move apart, and as they turn to settle themselves on the bench, I see his face for the first time.
Bloody hell! I was expecting someone like Dad. Someone grey and battered around the edges. Someone old. This man’s not old. Not Dad old, anyway. He’s got a thick dark beard and dark hair that’s all messy and touching his shoulders. He’s got so much hair in fact, that there’s not a lot of face left to see. But I can tell he’s younger than Mum. Old people are blurry, smudged-out versions of their younger selves, but this man is solid and clear. He’s all shiny and bright like the front cover of a magazine. He’s not dressed like an old person either. He’s wearing a black donkey jacket and a pair of blue denim jeans.
They sit close together, like they did the last time, with their heads almost touching and their fingers entwined. I wish I had a listening device like a proper detective, so I could hear what they are saying to each other. Are they planning on running away together? Does he know about Dad? Does he know about me? And who is he anyway? Where the hell did Mum even meet him? She never goes anywhere.
Suddenly, I hear voices. I turn round, and there’s a couple with a pram walking along the path towards me. I step away from the tree. I don’t want to look like some weird Peeping Tom. I bend down quickly, pretending to look for something in the grass. The couple don’t even notice me. They’re too intent on babbling and cooing to the baby in the pram. I don’t recognise them. They’ve never been in the shop at least. Lucky for Mum, I think. How would she explain it if one of our customers saw her canoodling with another man in Battersea Park? I can’t understand why she meets him here. It’s not exactly hidden away.
I stand up again and peek around the tree. The couple with the pram are a way down the path now and Mum and the man are hugging each other again. At least, Mum has her face pressed against his shoulder and he has his arms around her. It looks like he’s comforting her or something. I’ve got that strange feeling again. I know it’s my mum over there, but this is the first time I’ve ever
really
seen her.
I shouldn’t be spying on her, I know that much.
Similar Books
