Georgia by Lesley Pearse Read Free Book Online Page B

and looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Come on, the truth. I know something happened at school. Has someone bullied you?’
    Georgia hadn’t expected much the day she left St Joseph’s in Celia’s car. There was no picture in her mind of a house, or the kind of life she would lead with Mr and Mrs Anderson. She remembered the moment when the car stopped, the huge expanse of snow-covered heath on one side of the road, and the grey stone houses on the other.
    ‘This is ours,’ Celia had taken her hand again and led her up to a red front door. It seemed tiny after the convent door, little panes of coloured glass and the porch with old blue and white tiles. She had hardly noticed Mr Anderson, all she had seen and felt was warmth and comfort. Soft carpet under her feet, a big fire in the grate and the piano standing by the window.
    Those first few weeks had been so exciting. New kinds of wonderful food, clothes that were brand new and toys that were all for her. Later there had been the dancing and singing lessons to give her new heights of happiness. But above all else it had been having a mother, someone who cared about her, listened and talked to her as if she was someone special.
    ‘There was just a little trouble yesterday,’ she admitted. She knew her mother too well, she wouldn’t give up until she got to the truth. ‘But everything’s okay now.’
    ‘Someone slapped you! I knew it,’ Celia stiffened, dropping the teddy bear in her hands. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
    ‘Mum, I’m a big girl now,’ Georgia laughed. ‘I can stand up for myself. I talked to the girl today, it’s over.’
    ‘What was it about?’
    ‘My posh voice, if you must know.’ Georgia wasn’t exactly lying, but she thought her mother could take that better than the issue of colour. She grinned cheekily. ‘Maybe I’d best go back to talking like what I used to.’
    ‘Don’t you dare!’ Celia smiled. ‘After all the coaching I’ve given you!’

Chapter 3
    December 1959
    Georgia hurried to the church. The grass on the heath was thick with frost and the moon hung over the church spire as if endeavouring to impale itself. It was the last practice for the anthem the choir was going to sing at midnight mass on Christmas Eve.
    She wore a grey duffel coat over a polo-necked white sweater and jeans, hair tied up in a pony-tail with a white ribbon, a long red scarf knotted round her neck.
    Peter was waiting on the church steps. Just the sight of him made her heart beat a little faster. He was so beautiful, gold blond hair gleaming under the porch lamp, his peachy skin as clear as her own. She could hardly wait to get up close and see those forget-me-not blue eyes and his wide, soft lips.
    ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ His face broke into a relieved smile as she turned on to the church path.
    ‘I got held up,’ she said breathlessly.
    Four months had passed since they’d met at a youth club debate, and since then there hadn’t been one day when she hadn’t thought about him. Was it possible to want someone so badly and not have the longing returned?
    ‘Mr Grey’s having kittens,’ he grinned, his soft lips parting to show perfect white teeth. ‘We’d better go in.’
    As Georgia stepped into the church she closed her eyes for a second and inhaled deeply. She loved churches. The incense, the candles, all the rich embroidery on the altar cloths, the smell of polish and flowers. Religion didn’t come into it. To her it was a wonderful theatre, the choir part of a show they put on each weekend.
    Flinging her coat on a pew she slipped into the choir stalls, grinning sheepishly at the others. Eight women, six men and eight scruffy little boys. On Christmas Eve they would be transformed with starched ruffles and red cassocks, but for now they were just ordinary people who liked to sing just like her.
    The choir master tapped his stick on a pew.
    ‘I’m glad you could make it Georgia,’ Mr Grey’s deep baritone was at odds