Blood Ties by Sophie McKenzie Read Free Book Online Page A

raised my eyebrows, imagining what Jake would say if he was with me. ‘When does she get home?’ I said, trying to sound casual.
    ‘She doesn’t. She’s dead.’ Rachel got up and shuffled over to the fridge. ‘D’you want a drink? I’m getting an orange juice.’
    ‘Er . . . yeah . . . thanks.’ I looked away, embarrassed.
    After Rachel brought over our glasses, we talked through what my school project should be about. Still barely looking me in the eyes, Rachel explained more about what her dad did. It didn’t sound as if he’d been involved in any kind of genetic research for a long time.
    Mrs Smith came back into the kitchen and Rachel asked if I could stay for tea. Her mum looked annoyed.
    ‘But won’t anyone be expecting you at home, Theo?’ she said.
    I told her my parents were away on holiday and I was staying with cousins who were easy-going about what I did.
    After so many other lies, I figured, how could one more hurt? Mrs Smith reluctantly agreed I could stay for tea.
    Rachel’s dad came home at about six-thirty. Rachel looked up, surprised, as his voice drifted through from the hall.
    ‘He’s back early,’ she said. ‘Mum must’ve called him.’
    My heart hammered as heavy footsteps crossed the hall floor. Now Mr Smith was here, I felt terrified. I suddenly couldn’t remember what on earth we’d agreed to say – how I was going to get him to talk about the past.
    The door opened. A shortish, grey-haired man walked in. Like Mrs Smith, he was old. More like a grandad than a dad, really. He stared at me as if he’d never seen a boy before.
    Man , this family were weird.
    I stood up and held out my hand again.
    But Mr Smith didn’t seem to notice. He was still staring at my face. ‘What’s your name?’ he said at last.
    ‘Theo.’
    Mr Smith shook my hand and kissed Rachel on the side of the head. He leaned against the kitchen table. ‘My wife tells me you’re helping Rachel with her homework?’
    ‘I’m doing this genetics project,’ I said. My mouth felt dry. ‘The history of genetic research. Where science was and is and where it will be in five years’ time.’
    Mr Smith smiled. ‘Bit ambitious for a Year Ten project, isn’t it?’
    ‘I’m Year Eleven,’ I said, feeling uncomfortable. I glanced at Rachel. Surprise, surprise – she was staring down at the floor. She looked like she might be about to cry. I suddenly felt massively sorry for her. Okay, so my mum had her faults, but Rachel’s parents were really weird.
    Mr Smith was staring at me again. I plunged on.
    ‘Rachel said you used to work at a clinic that did genetic research.’
    Mr Smith shook his head. ‘I don’t know why she said that.’ He glanced at Rachel and smiled. ‘I’m a manager not a researcher. I’ve never been involved in actual genetic research.’
    ‘But Dad,’ Rachel muttered. ‘You still worked at research clinics . . .’
    ‘For goodness’ sake, Ro.’ Mr Smith rolled his eyes. ‘I might have worked briefly at a couple of the clinics, but I had nothing to do with any of the genetic research they were doing. Look, I’m going to get out of my suit.’ He turned away and strode out of the room.
    Rachel and I stared at each other across the table.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess my dad isn’t going to be much help.’
    I nodded. But my mind was whirring away. I was sure Mr Smith knew more than he was letting on.
    Rachel got out her school bag and appeared to be doing some kind of art homework. A weird picture of lots of tiny heart shapes – all red and dripping with blood. I bent over my English comprehension. We worked silently for a while. My mind kept sliding over the words on the page in front of me. I knew I couldn’t leave here without asking Mr Smith about my dad. Somehow, I had to do it. Even if he refused to tell me anything.
    My chance came an hour or so later. Mrs Smith had been bustling about in the kitchen making some kind of stew. It smelled delicious and I was