Fragile Lives by Jane A. Adams Read Free Book Online Page A

that the other kids didn’t use it much, preferring the television lounge or the games room. That was a major fact in its favour and best of all, it overlooked the sea.
    â€˜This must have been a posh place once,’ he commented.
    Ursula nodded. ‘I found some old photos. They even had servants. Cheryl says the council is going to put it up for sale and move everyone to some modern place that can take more kids. She says this is wasteful. It can only take ten kids at most. She says the council think we should be part of a “bigger community”.’
    â€˜Oh.’ George could not think of an appropriate response.
    â€˜Mind you,’ Ursula continued, ‘Cheryl says the council have been talking about closing this place for years so I don’t think we need to start packing yet.’
    He turned back to his work but somehow could not settle down to concentrate on the causes and conditions that had led to the Second World War. Both he and Paul had been inundated with handouts and extra reading and instructions to ‘find someone reliable to copy up from’. He had thought of asking Ursula but not quite summoned the courage yet. He wished Paul was here with them or that he was still at Paul’s house. They could at least have had a moan at one another then. Ursula, writing with frightening rapidity and with half a dozen books spread on the table in front of her, was just too bloody efficient to be a comfort.
    She looked up. ‘You OK?’
    George nodded. ‘Guess so.’
    She put her pen down. ‘It took me six days,’ she said.
    â€˜What did?’
    â€˜Before I could get any work done. And, I mean,
I like
school work. It’s about the only thing I’m good at.’
    George studied her with renewed interest. He hadn’t thought of Ursula as having any weaknesses never mind admitting to doubt. ‘What else do you like to do?’ he asked. ‘I mean, you got any hobbies?’
    She shrugged. ‘Never had time. Always been too busy getting A’s at school.’
    â€˜But what would you want to do?’
    Ursula shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. She picked up her pen but George got the feeling she wanted him to ask more, she just didn’t want to have to volunteer.
    His speculation was cut short by a ring at the front door and Cheryl’s voice, too loud and too brash, directing the visitor that ‘I think he’s in the conservatory’.
    George frowned, wondering who it could be and then Mac appeared in the doorway, a creased-looking carrier bag clutched in his long-fingered hand. Cheryl stood close behind offering tea and telling him how well George was settling in. Mac caught his eye and smiled, wryly.
    â€˜Tea would be nice. Thank you. Hello, George. All right if I sit down?’
    â€˜Course it is,’ Cheryl said. ‘George is glad to see you, aren’t you, George? I’ll go and get that tea.’
    George sighed and slumped back in his chair. Ursula shifted books and glanced shyly in Mac’s direction. ‘I’ll go.’
    â€˜You don’t have to,’ George said. ‘Mac, this is Ursula.’
    Mac surprised him by holding out his hand for Ursula to shake. ‘Inspector Sebastian McGregor,’ he announced. ‘Otherwise, Mac. Pleased to meet you.’ He pulled up a chair and sat down with a sigh. Closed his eyes for a moment.
    â€˜Busy day?’ George asked.
    â€˜It has been, yes. George, I don’t know if you’ve seen the news?’
    â€˜About the body? Yeah. I figured if you knew it was him you’d come and tell me soon as you knew so …?’
    Mac shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ he said. ‘This is someone else. It isn’t your father.’
    â€˜Right.’ He felt oddly deflated. ‘I’d kind of … you know …’
    â€˜Yeah, I can guess. It would be good to be able to draw a line under