Every Good Girl by Judy Astley Read Free Book Online Page B

way through adolescence.
    â€˜Hi Grandmama.’ Emily, smelling of an optimistic overdose of deodorant, drifted into the kitchen with her hairbrush.
    â€˜Not in here, Em, go and brush it in the downstairs cloakroom,’ Nina told her.
    â€˜Hello darling,’ Monica air-kissed Emily, and sniffed. ‘Interesting perfume,’ she said. ‘Peach blossom and
L’Air du Silk Cut
if I’m not mistaken. Poison, darling, absolute poison.’
    Emily smirked cheekily, ‘What, the peach blossom, Gran? You’re right – it’s disgusting. Just didn’t have time to shower though. I’ll be back, just got to brush hair.’ And she was gone.
    â€˜She’s just like you were,’ Monica said admiringly. ‘Nothing but trouble.’
    Nina laughed. ‘You make it sound as if I was the perfect daughter. I must say it would have helped if you’d given me that impression at the time.’
    â€˜Oh but I was your mother. Mothers are for laying down the tracks and making sure you children run properly on them. Grandmamas are for indulging and adoring from a safe distance. She’ll turn out fine, one day, you’ll see.’
    Nina poured the gravy into a jug. ‘I don’t even begin to doubt it actually. She’s not a problem, you know.’
    Monica laughed heartily, almost choking on the last of her sherry, ‘Oh darling of course she’s a problem!She’s a girl – they’re always at loggerheads with somebody, especially their mothers. Boys now, they were born to
please
their mothers. They do it all their lives, it’s that special bond. You wouldn’t know of course, only having girls.’
    Nina slowly counted to ten. ‘Let’s eat, shall we?’ she sighed. ‘Everything’s ready. Can you call Lucy while I put the vegetables on the table? She’s outside, up in the treehouse playing with the hamster.’
    Monica went to the kitchen door and looked back at Nina. ‘You’ll have to carve, won’t you,’ she said, eyeing the steaming, rosemary-spiked leg of lamb doubtfully. ‘Such a pity Graham couldn’t come. Carving does need a man.’ She was out in the garden before Nina could reply.
    Nina sighed and picked up the carving knife. ‘Any fool can carve meat,’ she muttered, piercing the skin viciously with a fork. Hot juices spurted up and caught her on the chin, making her suddenly want to cry. ‘Any fool with enough practice.’
    â€˜Cheese and prosciutto croissant or smoked salmon bagel?’
    Joe had both the huge stainless steel fridge and the emerald Perspex breadbin open and was peering into them alternately. Sunlight streamed in through the window, making all the apartment’s pale wood surfaces look bleached like parched driftwood.
    Catherine lay nestled in the cushions on the cream sofa surrounded by newspaper. Joe looked at her, watching her sleek yellow head turn prettily sideways to an attitude of cute thought. If she puts her finger to her chin, like 1950s fashion models, I’ll know she’s deliberately posing, he thought. It occurred to him that this might be a near-critical thought about her, the firstin their three cohabiting months. It might be something to do with the hints about babies: now he was just waiting for her to drop in something about being hungry enough for two, or to catch her shoving a cushion up her dress to check out what pregnancy would look like in the mirrored door of the wardrobe. He was quite relieved when she simply turned to him, pose-free and said, ‘Both, if there’s enough. I feel wickedly greedy.’ She grinned and bit her lip, resting her chin on the back of the sofa and watching him.
Now
she’s posing, Joe decided, turning away and reaching into the fridge for the cream cheese. ‘It’s all that exercise,’ Catherine said, narrowing her eyes at him suggestively.
    She has a smaller, neater mouth