Apple of My Eye by Patrick Redmond Read Free Book Online

mouth open, her breathing a dull rasp as opposed to Uncle Stan’s thunderous snore. Her right arm lay across her chest. But it wasn’t her right arm he was interested in.
    Gently he lifted the quilt and blankets. The left arm lay by her side. It was no longer bandaged. The light wasn’t brilliant but sufficient for him to make out the damaged skin. He stretched out his fingers, wanting to touch it but holding back for fear of waking her. Seeing it was enough. To know that it existed.
    Many children in his class had roller skates. Sally Smith’s grandmother had tripped on one and broken her ankle. Sally had told them in class and a half-formed idea had suddenly taken shape. A broken ankle would have been good. But a scarred arm was even better.
    His mother said that Auntie Vera didn’t mean to be unkind. That she was a nice person really. But he didn’t believe her. Auntie Vera thought his mother was stupid. Auntie Vera liked making his mother cry. Auntie Vera wanted his mother to have him adopted and sent away to strangers so they would never see each other again.
    But he would never leave his mother. One day, in spite of what she said, his father
would
come and take care of them both, but until that day it was his job to take care of her. And Auntie Vera had better not try and have him sent away because if she did …
    Well, she’d just better not. That was all.
    Back in his own room he gazed down at his mother. She lay on her side, breathing softly, looking like aprincess in a book of fairy tales. A tuft of hair stuck up at an angle. Moistening his fingers, he brushed it down.
    No one was going to hurt her. He would not allow it because she was his mother and he loved her. And she loved him because he was her little Ronnie Sunshine, who made her happy when skies were grey. He was the best boy in the world, she told him, and he made her proud because he was handsome and clever and good.
    But he wasn’t always good. Sometimes he did bad things and was glad to have done them. He wanted her to be glad and praise him, but when he even hinted at them she was shocked because little Ronnie Sunshine never did bad things. Little Ronnie Sunshine didn’t even think bad thoughts.
    And if she knew the things he thought and did she might not be proud any more. She might not love him any more.
    She was smiling in her sleep. Her face was soft and lovely. He imagined it hardening. Growing cold. ‘Go away, Ronald. You’re bad and wicked and I hate you. You’re not my little Ronnie Sunshine any more.’
    Then there would be no one to love him and he would be alone.
    The image terrified him. He burst into tears.
    In her dream it was Christmas morning. She was nine years old and opening her stocking. Her father was smoking a pipe and her mother was telling him how much he looked like Ronald Colman while the family cat miaowed loudly as if complaining about the smell.Her brother John had been given a harmonica and was trying to play ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ while they all laughed and sang along …
    When she woke the laughter seemed to have followed her. But as her head cleared she realized it was the sound of crying. Ronnie stood beside the bed, shivering in the cold of the room and sobbing as if his heart would break.
    She folded him in her arms, covering his wet cheeks with kisses. ‘It’s all right, Ronnie. Mummy’s here.’ Gently she rocked him, making soothing noises while a train rushed by outside, filling the room with noise and light.
    ‘What was it, darling? A nightmare? Did a dream frighten you?’
    He nodded.
    ‘What did you dream?’
    He opened his mouth, then shut it again, shaking his head.
    ‘You don’t have to tell me. All that matters is that it’s over and I’m here and you’re safe.’ She stroked his hair. His eyes were wide and fearful. She remembered her thoughts in the café and felt ashamed. He was just a baby. He would never willingly hurt anyone.
    ‘Do you want to sleep in my bed? I’ll