Chocolate Cake for Breakfast by Danielle Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page A

about as exhilarating as a bowl of rice pudding – would have been difficult to imagine. ‘I got the impression he’s had quite a lot of practice.’
    ‘I expect he has. When are you going to see him again?’
    ‘Goodness only knows,’ I said sadly. ‘He’s flying out for South Africa on Tuesday, and then they’re playing Australia again on the way home the next weekend, and the weekend after that I’ve got to go to Mary-Anne’s hen’s weekend.’ It was all very depressing.
    ‘Oh,’ said Alison, sounding discouraged. Then, rallying gamely, she offered, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if that was quite a good thing. If he makes an effort to keep in touch you’ll know he really likes you.’
    ‘And if he doesn’t I’ll know the only reason he wanted to see me was that it was better than hanging out with Hamish.’

    On leaving work that night I turned left instead of right at Broadview’s only set of traffic lights, and went to visit my family. I parked the ute behind my stepmother’s car and let myself in through the garage. As I rounded the corner of the hall towards the kitchen there was a piercing shriek and Em roared, ‘Annabel! Stop that at once!’
    ‘Caitlin’s got my pink blanket!’ Annabel wailed.
    ‘She wasn’t even using it!’ Caitlin cried. ‘She only wants it because I need it for my hospital!’
    ‘Hey, munchkins,’ I said, arriving at the scene. Caitlin had climbed with the blanket to the top of a bookcase, while Bel protested beneath her.
    ‘Helen, get my blanket back!’ she demanded.
    ‘But I need it!’ said Caitlin.
    I swung my smallest sister up with a grunt of effort and sat her on one hip. Annabel has the same build as a bull terrier: compact but extremely dense. ‘Come on, let’s go see what your mum’s doing,’ I said. ‘Do you think I’d be allowed to stay for tea?’
    ‘Yeah! Can you read me Bad Jelly the Witch when I go to bed?’
    ‘I’m sick of Bad Jelly,’ I said. ‘Can’t we find something else?’ Reading to Bel was deeply painful; you only ever managed half a page before she waved you imperiously to silence and took over herself. And her grasp of the text was shaky at best, so you had to wait while she furrowed her brow and muttered, ‘Um . . . Um . . . No! Don’t help me! I can do it!’ I tried to stick with nice, short books like The Very Hungry Caterpillar , which at least kept this penance to a minimum.
    ‘ Please? ’ Bel asked.
    ‘We’ll see,’ I said weakly.
    ‘Your eye is red,’ she informed me.
    ‘I know. I got kicked by a cow. Hi, Em.’
    My stepmother turned from the stove to kiss me. ‘Sweetie, your face !’
    ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t hurt at all. But it looks nice and impressive, don’t you think?’
    Em brushed my bruised cheek with beautifully manicured fingers. ‘Nick shouldn’t expect you to put yourself in these dangerous situations,’ she said.
    ‘Please don’t ring him,’ I said. ‘Promise me you won’t.’ Sometimes, just fleetingly, I fantasise about having a traditional evil stepmother who wants nothing to do with me. It would be so much less embarrassing.
    ‘Hmm,’ said Em. ‘Any weekend plans?’
    ‘I’m on call.’
    ‘ Again? Sweetie, it’s slave labour!’
    ‘No it’s not,’ I said, letting Bel slide to the floor. ‘I swapped weekends so I can go to Mary-Anne’s hen’s weekend in August.’
    ‘Mary-Anne,’ Em repeated. ‘Which one is she?’
    ‘The short one with curly dark hair who manages to say “my fiancé” at least twice per sentence.’
    Em nodded. ‘Ah, her. Now, I need a favour,’ she said, giving her cheese sauce a brisk stir, then putting down the wooden spoon and tilting her chin up towards the ceiling. ‘I can feel a nasty bristly hair, and I can’t see it in the mirror. Can you get it for me?’
    I peered obediently at her neck. ‘No, you’re good.’
    ‘Look harder,’ she ordered. ‘I’m having lunch with Christine Marshall tomorrow, and she’s got