Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Well, there’s my suspicions about the depressing, lonely winters that are ahead of me confirmed. Mum pays the driver and he pulls away, disappearing back down the sandy path. Mum opens the front door as I carry in two large suitcases, and my immediate impression is that the place is way too small and smells kind of musty. I scrunch up my nose in distaste.
“A bit of an airing and it will be fine,” says Mum, noticing my reaction.
“I hope you’re right,” I reply moodily, dropping the suitcases in the hallway and going back out to retrieve the rest.
“You can lose that tone immediately, young man,” Mum calls after me. I ignore her.
Sasha is lingering by the front gate, still staring excitedly down at the beach.
“Are you going to help or what, you lazy cow?” I call to her.
She turns around and scowls, just as laughter can be heard from a group coming up the path from the beach. It looks like a family. There’s a really old woman with grey hair, wearing a dark blue swimsuit and a long sarong (eww), another redheaded woman about Mum’s age, and two redheaded girls. One of them is around five or six years old, and the other is just a little younger than me, twelve or thirteen maybe. She’s laughing at the little girl as she bounces a ball around, throwing sand up all over the place, but the main thing I notice about her is that she’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Dark and light all at the same time.
“Mummy!” shouts the smaller girl. “Look! It’s the new neighbours.”
“Okay, Alison, calm down,” says the mother, taking the ball from her so she can’t kick up any more sand.
The girl, Alison, runs up to Sasha, thrusting her hand out in greeting. Sasha laughs and says hello, while the older girl comes up and introduces herself, too. My sister beams at her, immediately enthralled, probably by her crazy red hair and accent. It takes a particular type of person for Sasha to want to be friends with them, and by the looks of it, this girl is one of those people.
She and Sasha immediately hit it off; they stand chatting by the gate as her mother and (I presume) her grandmother continue on with her little sister to their house. I put down the suitcase for a moment to go and get Sasha. Even though this girl has such a pretty face, I can’t help being pissed off by her. I don’t want Sasha making friends, because if she does she’ll get happy here, and then she won’t want to leave.
She sees me approach. “Hey, Rob, come and meet Lana. She lives in the house across the way.” She turns back to Lana. “This is my twin brother, Robert.”
Lana’s eyes drift to me, and when they do they widen and a blush colours her cheeks. Yeah, she likes me, I can tell. Lots of the girls back home like me, too.
“Hello, Robert,” she says shyly, her voice low. I’ve never really enjoyed my mother’s Irish accent, to be honest; it’s too loud and boisterous, always nagging at me, but Lana’s accent I could get used to. It’s soft and sweet, like music. I pull myself away from these thoughts. I can’t let myself like anything about it here, especially not this girl.
“Uh, yeah, whatever,” I reply, rolling my eyes to show her how unimpressed I am. Then I grab Sasha by the hood of her sweatshirt and drag her back to the house.
“I’ll call over to see you later,” Sasha says, and the girl nods and smiles. When she glances at me her expression falls, like she’s upset about how rude I was to her. Well, she’ll just have to get over it.
Once we’re out of view, Sasha gives me a punch in the gut for my behaviour with Lana. “You didn’t have to be like that. She was nice,” she says irritably.
I try to catch my breath, because for a girl Sasha punches hard.
“Ugh! You like it here, don’t you! Have you forgotten our plan to convince Mum to move back to London? We’ve only arrived and already you’re making friends.”
“Look, Rob, you need to get it out of your head that Mum’s ever going to forgive Dad for what he did. It might not be the same as back home, but this is where we live now. I don’t know about you, but I plan on making the most of it.”
She flips her hair over her shoulder and saunters into the living room to Mum. I glance back out the open front door to see Lana making her way across the grass to her own house. Her presence is making Sasha think she could come to like it here.
And I hate her for it.
Part Two
Cruelty Is Hard to Forgive
Five
I manage to spend the rest of the evening re-reading a few chapters of the Iliad in my room, in effect avoiding any further encounters with Robert. Sasha goes out to see one of her “celebrity gossip informants” or whatever you’d call them, and doesn’t get back until late.
The next morning I get ready for my first day at work. My shift starts at ten, so again I manage to bypass seeing Robert, who leaves for work at seven-thirty. I make sure I have my tube map and the Oyster card I ordered online safely in my bag before I leave, as well as my packed lunch and my insulin.
I memorise my route as I walk toward the Tube station. I have to get the northern line to Kings Cross and then the Piccadilly line to Knightsbridge. The station is so stressful when I get there, full of people hurriedly dashing this way and that. It’s definitely a new experience for me, since I’m used to the easy-going country life. The last time I was here Sasha drove me everywhere, so there was no need for me to take the Tube. At one point I slow down a bit, trying to figure out if I’m heading towards the correct platform, and a woman knocks harshly by me, muttering her annoyance under her breath.