Everything She Forgot by Lisa Ballantyne Read Free Book Online Page A

hope he’s dead. Take this and treat her better than he treated me.”
    George had not wanted his parents’ engagement ring to sully his own union. Now, he took the ring he had chosen for Kathleen in forefinger and thumb, and kissed the hard stone.
    Kathleen had been right for not wanting him seven years ago when Moll was born. His father had disappeared when he was still winching Kathleen, but his elder brother, Peter, had eagerly stepped into Brendan’s shoes. Even with their father gone, the McLaughlins were still synonymous with fear in Glasgow. George had always dreamed of running away with Kathleen, but it was only his mother’s death last year and then the discovery of the money that had made him think that escape could be possible.
    George finished his cigarette as he conjured Kathleen in his mind. He found it hard to reconstruct her face, but he remembered the smell of her and the softness of her fine dark hair. He remembered her laugh and black eyelashes and the gap between her front teeth.
    He took a deep breath and thought about the weight of Moll in his arms. He had held her whole body in his two hands. He remembered her tiny eyelids opening to reveal blue eyes as sharp as his own, struggling to focus on his face. Everything about her had been fresh and new and perfect.
    Standing in the wind, looking along the coast, he felt strange, as if he had shed a skin. He felt free and invincible and full of hope—daring for the first time to think that he could be happy.
    I t was after three in the afternoon when George drew up before the gray stone villa where Kathleen and Moll lived. He opened the top button of his shirt and leaned back into the seat of the stolen Austin Allegro that had been “cleaned” at the McLaughlin garage. He sat for over an hour watching the house, amazed by the neatly shaped privet, the tiny flowers on either side of the path, the green-painted garden gate. Even from the road, George could see the large chandelier hanging in the living room.
    He sat in the middle of a row of parked cars, watching for signs of movement inside and out. There was a BMW parked in the red ash drive. A deliveryman came and rang the doorbell but no one answered, so he placed the parcel in the garage at the side of the house.
    George smoked another two cigarettes before he saw a woman approach the garden gate and open it. It had been several years since George had seen Kathleen, but even from behind he recognized her. He still knew the way she moved. He had always admired the fluid way that she walked, as if she could hear music. She remained slim, but her hair was longer, hanging between her shoulder blades. He hadn’t seen her since that night in Glasgow Green when he had proposed for the second time, the grass wetting the knees of his jeans.
    He whispered her name under his breath and, as if she had heard, she turned.
    George sat quickly back in his seat, out of sight. Some hot ash fell from his cigarette and burned his trousers. He brushed it off, cursing, but it was too late; it had made a hole in the fabric.
    Kathleen turned away again. In the distance, in the direction of Kathleen’s gaze, there was a child, running. She hadlong dark hair and long legs and George peered at her. The child looked older than Moll should have been: nine or even ten, not seven—but she ran up to Kathleen, who held the gate for her, and then together they went toward the house.
    â€œJesus,” George said again, brushing a hand over the fabric of his trousers. The white of his skin shone through the perfectly circular hole. He glanced over again as the pair went into the house. The girl was wearing the local school uniform, which George had seen when he stopped in the town for a sausage roll.
    He lit up again out of annoyance and narrowed his eyes as he stared at the house. In daylight, it was difficult to watch their movements inside. He hadn’t expected Moll to be so big. He