Carrier by Vanessa Garden Read Free Book Online

her head suddenly and stared down at me without blinking once.
    My feet shuffled around on the spot and my hand reach up around my waist to press against the solid journal cover.
    â€˜I promise I won’t lock myself up like that again. There’s no excuse.’ She moved closer, as though she was actually going to hug me and I stiffened, recalling the slap she’d given Alice. For some reason I’d repressed that incident, but after reading about it just now, it felt as fresh as if it had happened only minutes ago. How could Mum have done that? Didn’t she have sympathy for a young teenage girl who’d been ripped from her old life? A girl who’d lost both of her parents?
    â€˜Why are you all tense?’ Mum drew back, hurt hardening her face. She shook her head and spat, probably a piece of her fingernail, on the floor. ‘You’re so like your father, carrying things around for ten years. Well, if you expect me to feel guilty about getting drunk for one measly night, don’t. I did it, I’m sorry and now I’m ready to return back to my routine, to our routine.’
    I opened my mouth to speak, but she put up a hand.
    â€˜I’ve been thinking about you turning seventeen soon. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll take you hunting outside the property.’
    She smiled warmly at me, as if we’d just shared a touching moment. But why did it feel so wrong? Last week, if she’d announced this, I probably would have danced around the house and then ran outside to shout my joy to the world, making birds flee the trees. But right here, right now, her offer felt like nothing. If anything, it felt like another rule, another barrier. And it was.
    Now that Mum had emerged from her self-induced coma, it meant she’d be back on intruder alert. There was no hope in meeting Patrick tonight, and, even worse, no way to get in touch with him and warn him not to come, warn him that if my mum caught him too close to the fence, she’d shoot him on the spot.
    I pressed the flat of my hand against the diary and Alice’s words returned. Sometimes I just want to knock Aunt Alex over the head — just to knock her out (I’m not a murderer, okay) — so I can leap over the fence and run free...
    I met Mum’s eyes and my face flushed with heat, ashamed that I could even think about it. Thank God she couldn’t read my mind.
    â€˜You look like you’re coming down with something, Lena. It’s this change of weather. I’d say a storm is coming in the next day or so.’
    Mum’s concern made me feel cold with guilt for even considering knocking her out. Maybe I was coming down with something.
    Cold wind blew through the crack beneath the front door and I shivered.
    â€˜Lena, are you okay?’
    I nodded, my body still trembling. A vision of Patrick waiting for me at the fence tonight filled me with fear for his safety, and a heavy sadness.
    â€˜No you are not. Go and get into bed and I’ll fix you up a bowl of my famous soup.’ She grinned. ‘It’s so famous that four people have eaten it.’ She was cracking a joke, trying to lighten the heavy air between us. But somehow it sounded more morbid than funny, seeing as the other two who’d eaten the soup were dead.
    From somewhere, deep in the back closet of my emotions, I managed to rummage up a smile. But it wasn’t a true one — I was too worried about Patrick for that.
    â€˜Okay.’ The only reason I went willingly to my bedroom was because I needed more privacy and time to work out what to do next. If I told Mum about Patrick, there was no question that she’d shoot him. If I didn’t tell her and she caught him out there herself, she would still shoot him.
    The mattress groaned beneath me when I threw myself onto my bed. As I stuffed Alice’s journal beneath my pillow, Jeffery C fluttered out and landed on the floor. Within seconds he was resting over my