Odd Socks by Ilsa Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

weather.’ Mum opens her window a fraction and the icy wind whistles straight across and zeroes in on my left ear. ‘Why? Did something happen?’
    â€˜Mum . . .’ I take a deep breath and try to focus. ‘You just said that it was a lovely surprise. What was the lovely surprise?’
    â€˜Why, you, honey.’
    â€˜ I was the lovely surprise?’
    â€˜Yes, of course – you turning up like that to take me to see the new little baby.’
    â€˜But, Mum, we just arranged it this morning!’
    â€˜Yes, I know. But the baby was a trifle early, and then – well, so was eleven o’clock. Hadn’t you better put your lights on?’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Well, it’s only polite when you’re in a funeral procession.’
    â€˜But I’m not – all right.’ I lean over and flick my lights on. ‘So how’s Tom? Have you heard from him recently?’
    â€˜Yes, I rang this morning to tell him the news. He was thrilled. And they’re all fine.’ Mum pauses and a slight frown puckers her porcelain brow. ‘Although I do worry all the time about that Kleenex Clan and what they might do to him. And to little Bonnie.’
    â€˜Mum. Number one – it’s the Klu Klux Klan. Number two – last time I saw him, Tom was white, Protestant and heterosexual. The combination of which renders him fairly safe. Number three – the Klu Klux Klan aren’t the be all and end all they once were.’ I put my blinker on and try to get out from behind the hearse but the semitrailer on my right refuses to let me in. ‘And number four – the only way they’d be athreat to Bonnie would be if they have a branch that’s involved in straightening out spoilt brats.’
    â€˜Nevertheless, I worry.’ Mum folds her arms across her chest and looks at me sagely. ‘I’ve heard things, you know.’
    I try not to laugh because I don’t want to hurt her feelings. My brother, Thomas, who specialises in corporate law, was sent by his firm over to Atlanta, in the US of A, on a two-year contract ten years ago. The chief reason he is still there is Amy, his southern-born wife whom he met and married during the first year of his contract and who steadfastly refuses to live anywhere else. Bonnie is their very spoilt five year old daughter.
    â€˜Any plans to visit us in the near future?’ I decide to change the subject because this isn’t the first conversation we’ve had regarding the Kleenex Klan and the likelihood of them doing something drastic to Tom or Bonnie. Like forcing them to manufacture illicit, substandard toilet tissue in some sweatshop, I suppose. Amy doesn’t really enter the equation – after all, if she were nabbed by the Klan, Tom would be free to shift back to Australia with his daughter in tow and visit his mother a trifle more frequently.
    â€˜Actually, he thought he might have a meeting over here in a month or so.’ My mother turns and looks at me excitedly. ‘Wouldn’t that be lovely?’
    â€˜Yes, it would,’ I reply with pleasure, ‘but aren’t you due over there this Christmas anyway?’
    â€˜Am I? Let me see . . . ’ She frowns with concentration. ‘Yes, I am ! I stayed here last year, so this year it’s my turn for America! I’d forgotten – what fun!’
    â€˜Yes, what fun,’ I reply dryly, wondering how it is possible to forget that, for the past ten years, you have spent one Christmas with your daughter and the following with your son. I make another attempt to get out of the funeralprocession but all the cars in the right-hand lane contain extremely selfish drivers and not one will let me in. We lapse into silence but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It never is with my mother because I’ll say one thing for her – she’s definitely not the type of person who feels they have to fill every