Read Online What They Do in the Dark by Amanda Coe - Free Book Online Page A

like to play their cards close to their chest,’ he told her, with unfounded authority.
    ‘Who’s playing cards?’
    Shit. It was Lallie, bouncing up the aisle.
    ‘There’s our girl,’ said Frank, offering himself for a kiss. Lallie gave him a professional peck on the cheek and said hello. Then, alerted by her mother’s animation, she asked what they were talking about.
    ‘They want you for a film in America, hen!’ crowed Katrina. Lallie yelped in excitement and bundled into her for a mutual clinch of celebration. Katrina squealed back at her, the two of them jiggling exultantly.
    ‘Steady on,’ said Frank. ‘They’re interested in seeing you, that’s all at this stage.’
    But it was too late. He could see that the cat was out of the bag before it was even conclusively in. Why did she always have to whip the kid up? He and Lol didn’t treat the boys like that. They had even become accustomed to spelling out ‘walk’ in a sentence unless they were about to take them out, otherwise the frenzied excitement and subsequent whimpering disappointment were unbearable. Of course the boys were highly strung, like all Jack Russells, but then so was Lallie. Like he always said, she might be a kid but first and foremost she was an entertainer.
    She hopped on to his knee, flourishing his Parker and tucking it back in his breast pocket.
    ‘Here, kid, have a cigar on me.’ It was – who was it? Bob Hope? How the hell did an eleven-year-old kid from Gateshead even know who Bob Hope was? Frank stretched to retrieve the contracts, dislodging Lallie from his lap. She was more of a weight on him than she had been, definitely, although she still looked skinny as a snake. Still, best for him to sort out this trip ASAP, considering. And at least he could count on the big cheese from the studio running to a chauffeur.

 
    T O P AULINE, A cataclysmic outburst of rage from Joanne was as inevitable as her eventual departure from Adelaide Road. In fact, it was difficult not to regard one as contingent on the other. Pauline didn’t consider slapped legs and pulled hair and name-calling as part of this tally; the nature of her mam’s real anger actually rendered these casual tokens of attention puzzlingly desirable. Because when Joanne decided that Pauline was a miserable little cunt, unfit to be her daughter, she punished her by refusing to speak or even look at her. She wouldn’t have her in the same room, or say her name. Then, it was as though Joanne had killed her, and Pauline was left to float around the house like a ghost, a ghost that lacked even the small consolation of being scary.
    It hadn’t happened yet. Pauline was adept at reading her mother’s moods and smelling her breath, and stayed out of the way if either seemed volatile. Craig and Cheryl were too little to have learned these lessons, but although a few bruises came their way as a consequence, Pauline knew that the larger reaches of Joanne’s anger were reserved for her.
    ‘Where’ve you been?’
    ‘School.’
    ‘School. Read this then.’
    Joanne flourished a newspaper at her. Pauline took it. The
Express
. Someone must have been to visit her mum and left it.
    ‘Which bit d’you want me to read?’
    ‘I don’t care. Any.’
    Pauline never got a chance to read out loud at school. It was always the others, even if she bothered to put her hand up. Shestarted to read out a bit about a man who’d killed his wife with a tyre iron but Joanne lost interest after she realized that Pauline wasn’t going to make any mistakes.
    ‘What’s the time?’ she asked, chopping off Pauline’s flow of words like scissors.
    ‘Don’t know.’
    There were no clocks in the house, and Joanne didn’t wear a watch. But Pauline could hear the
Nationwide
music from the telly.
    ‘I think it’s about six,’ she offered.
    ‘I’ve got to get ready,’ said Joanne, without making a move. She looked ready from the neck up, but her body was still in a bra and jeans. She lit