Frozen Charlotte by Priscilla Masters Read Free Book Online Page A

ball. My mind went one way and my knee the other. See?’
    ‘Ye-es.’
    ‘Then we have to so some really weird exercises, stretching and things, a bit like ballet and they’re supposed to help too.’
    She took the box of eggs out of the fridge and wondered how long it would be before Sukey and Agnetha appeared. Her son was hungry.
    ‘How long are you going to wait for, Mum?’
    ‘Have a bowl of cereal to start,’ she said. ‘I thought it’d be nice if we had breakfast all together this morning. It’s not often we can do this, Sam.’
    Her son grunted and helped himself to some Shredded Wheat, still keeping up the running sports commentary. ‘Half the trouble is, Mum, that if you miss a ball, a really important ball, people don’t forgive you. They keep on and on about it and reputation’s important. This is a very important time for me. Michael Owen was not much older than me when he played in the World Cup. The clubs are starting to pounce on guys my age.’ He didn’t even realize that she was only listening with half an ear. ‘Paul Driscoll – well – he’s been transferred to Stoke. He’ll be playing full games next season. Fantastic.’ She noticed that his eyes were shining and his crooked grin was stretched wide as he polished off the bowl of cereal. What she failed to notice was the surreptitious glance he aimed in her direction.
    Sukey appeared just before ten o’clock, yawning and pushing her white-blonde hair out of her eyes. ‘Morning, Mum. Morning, Sam.’ To Martha’s relief she looked relatively normal.
    ‘Did you have a nice time last night?’ Though she’d tried to keep the edge out of her voice Martha could hear the censorious tone all too clearly.
    Sukey gave a deep sigh. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘It was all right.’
    ‘You don’t sound very sure.’
    Sukey gave her a smile, turned to the fridge, poured out some apple juice and took a deep swig. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘I find the whole thing a bit boring. I mean you can’t talk or anything. The music’s too loud.’
    ‘You’re very young to have reached this cynical point,’ Martha said, deciding that her decision to say nothing about alcohol had been the right one. Sukey wouldn’t be the first or last person to drink too much because she had, in fact, found the evening unsatisfactory. She’d done the same herself, particularly in the early months just after Martin had died when social occasions had been really tough, friends awkward, not knowing what to say and she’d hated being introduced as a ‘widow’. She hated the word.
    ‘I know I’m cynical, Mum.’ Sukey gave another deep sigh, took a second swig out of her glass and Martha sensed her daughter wanted to talk.
    She waited.
    ‘What was it like when you met Dad?’
    ‘It was at a party – at someone’s house.’ Martha smiled to herself. ‘The music was really loud. Blasted our eardrums out. We spent a few minutes screaming at each other, unable to make out a single word then we went outside, although it was pouring with rain. We just found an old brolly in the hall and stood under it. We talked and talked and talked.’
    She closed her eyes, remembering the rain splashing off the edge of the umbrella, the wetness of the driveway, the sound of water everywhere, the eagerness in both their voices because they had both known they had met someone on the same plane.
    Sukey’s eyes were bright. ‘I wish he was still around, Mum. I wish I could remember him.’
    Martha nodded. Sam was looking across. ‘Me too,’ he said gruffly. ‘I wonder what he’d think of me being a footballer.’
    Although Martha couldn’t know she gave the right answer, the one Sam needed to hear. ‘He’d have been very proud of you.’
    ‘Sometimes,’ Sukey said dreamily, ‘I think I can remember things, a snatch of a laugh or fingers tickling me.’ She closed her eyes as though struggling to conjure up these faint and elusive memories. ‘I so wish I had a dad.’
    Martha