Lovestruck by Julia Llewellyn Read Free Book Online Page B

in a white frilly dress – the antithesis of the kind of thing she wore now – which emphasized her round tummy. Her brown curls hung round her cheeks in ringlets like Nanna’s old dolly Violet.
    ‘You’re here!’ she cried. ‘Mummy said you might not come. She said your grandmother might not be able to afford the bus fare.’
    ‘Of course she could afford the bus fare,’ Rosie replied, immediately defensive.
    But Christy just laughed and held out her hand. ‘Let me give you a tour. That’s what Mummy always does.’
    Rosie couldn’t get over the size of Christy’s house. It was on two storeys, with a huge, mature garden, and the furniture was all new and white. Everything was immaculate: cushions were plumped, surfaces were dust-free. Christy had a gorgeous dressing table in her bedroom, white with a massive gilt-edged mirror and draped in hot-pink taffeta like something from the Sindy bedroom set Nanna refused to buy Rosie, because it was too expensive. Maybe they
were
poor then. An empty perfume bottle – ‘One of Mummy’s old ones,’ Christy had said – sat on top, next to an lacy embroidered tissue-box cover and a silver-backed mirror.
    Rosie had gasped, gazing around. ‘This is so beautiful. If I lived somewhere like this, I’d never feel sad again.’ In the hallway Christy opened a little door that revealed a tiny washroom with pink walls. ‘Even your toilet sparkles.’
    ‘So you must be Rosie,’ said a cool voice behind them. It was the first time Rosie had seen Christy’s mother Sandra Papadopolous. She was tall, taller than Christy’s dad, with bobbed brown hair, and was wearing a cream shirt dress, like a mother from a book. Mum always wore combats and T-shirts that revealed her tattoos. Rosie knew Sandra was a doctor at the local hospital; Nanna had made some remark about how both Christy’s parents were doctors and how they couldn’t have any money problems. She looked Rosie up and down slowly. Rosie shifted from one foot to another and looked down to check her dress wasn’t stained, then glanced in the mirror to see if her face was dirty. Something was wrong with her, Sandra was making that quite clear.
    ‘Come along,’ she said. ‘The party’s starting.’
    The party was in the lounge. There was a big vase on the side table with criss-crosses etched into it. Christy said it was called a harlequin pattern. Three nights a week, she said, her mother filled it with fresh flowers. There were pink and white shiny balloons everywhere, and the table was laden with plates of cupcakes – brilliantly iced and decorated with little silver beads. There was a cake in the shape of a princess
with a purple dress latticed with silver. They played games like pass the parcel and grandmother’s footsteps with Nick Papadopolous being grandmother and wearing a silly orange wig. Rosie decided she liked Nick far more than Sandra.
    The other unnerving presence had been Barron – Christy’s older brother. Rosie had been dimly aware of a brother, but Christy had said something about him being at boarding school, a concept that Rosie had found so exotic – and frankly unbelievable – she’d simply put it out of her mind.
    But there he was standing in a corner, hands in pockets, watching proceedings with dark eyes concealed by a too-long fringe. He was about twelve, Rosie recalled, but very tall for his age and he was fat too – not obese, but definitely chubby, and you didn’t often see chubby children back in those days. Rosie was a little bit scared of him. Sometimes he tried to join in, but he got over-excited playing musical statues and knocked over Billy Wildman, who’d cried and cried, and Sandra, who’d been tidying up in the kitchen, appeared in a stripy pinny and said ‘Barron! Sit down and behave!’ in a soft voice that nonetheless chilled.
    ‘But, Mum, it was an accident,’ Barron protested in a growly voice, as Billy – who was a terrible wuss – continued to scream.
    ‘I am