Second Chances by Charity Norman Read Free Book Online Page B

piece of A4 refill, blackened with angry scrawl. ‘You’ve got a bumpy ride ahead of you!’
    Sacha emerged from the wailing chorus with her best friend draped around her shoulders. Dopey little Lydia was off to Tenerife the following day, so this truly was goodbye.
    ‘I’ll phone,’ Lydia promised. She had chestnut boy-hair and never looked more than half awake. I’d known her all her life; her mother and I were in the maternity unit together. She’d eaten at my kitchen table a thousand times over the years, and swapped awful knock-knock jokes, and was rude about my cooking. ‘I’ll be on Facebook every single night.’
    Sacha burst into tears. ‘Night’s morning over there,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s all upside down.’
    ‘Get her out,’ hissed Belinda from the corner of her mouth. ‘Before they become blood sisters. They’ve still got their compasses.’
    Getting out of the building—past teachers, girls and the janitor—took twenty heartbreaking, horrible minutes. We needed a couple of those hunky bodyguards in black suits and mirrored shades. The car was a blessed sight.
    Charlie and Finn hadn’t throttled one another, thank God, and no passing do-gooder had called the NSPCC to report neglected children. They were listening to a Mr Men story tape.
    ‘Hey, Sacha. Whadya call a Smartie in a combine harvester?’ asked Finn as we got in.
    ‘Shredded sweet!’ crowed Charlie, and both boys fell about.
    ‘Listen to your story,’ I warned them, ‘or I’ll put on Radio 4.’
    Sacha and I travelled in a loaded silence as it began to rain. I didn’t ask how she felt; didn’t try to jolly her up. I was tired of her anger. I was tired of feeling guilty. I was tired, full stop. And all the while my mind was scurrying in exhausted circles, fizzing dyspeptically with lists—things to do, things to remember, things I’d just remembered I’d forgotten to do.
    Oh, bugger. Muffin. She was going to Dad’s until we were settled, but there was a mile of red tape before she could join us in New Zealand. Must get her to the vet’s for a microchip. Oh my God , I hadn’t phoned the lawyer back about that wretched easement. Maybe Kit had done it? No, I’d said I’d do it because Kit had flown across to Ireland.
    Oh bugger bugger bugger— the goldfish! Perhaps the nursery school would like them? The tank was so encrusted with slime that I hadn’t actually seen a fish in weeks. From time to time a flicker of piscine movement would stir, like Jaws, in the green gloom. I’d have to clean it.
    ‘If anyone cares, that was the worst day of my life,’ announced Sacha.
    I braked for a lollipop lady, my mind on the fish. And the dog. Oh God, and the easement. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, doll.’ Bloody hell, what if the sale falls through? ‘You’re feeling sad about leaving your friends.’
    ‘Do me a favour,’ snarled Sacha. ‘Listen to yourself.’
    ‘Sorry?’ I drummed my fingers on the wheel, wondering if I should just drop in at the solicitor on the way past.
    ‘Turn off the professional busybody language, Mum.’
    My mobile rang as we were pulling away again. With one eye on the road, I checked the number.
    ‘It’s the removal people,’ I moaned. ‘Oh God, what’s gone wrong now?’
    Sacha’s hand whipped out. She snatched the phone out of my fingers and held it to her ear. ‘Yes? . . . Oh, hello. Yes, speaking.’ She sounded calm, mature and utterly charming. ‘Yes. No. Actually, you can cancel the whole thing because we’re not going after all. Yes, I’m afraid you did hear right. Cancelled. Sorry for the short notice, but it can’t be helped. Change of plan. Thank you. Goodbye.’ She switched off the phone and tossed it over her shoulder.
    ‘Ouch!’ yelped Finn. ‘That bloody phone bashed me in the ear.’
    ‘Sacha Basher, Sacha Basher!’ sang Charlie.
    I pulled into a bus stop. We sat side by side, staring at the windscreen wipers.
    Swipe, swipe.
    ‘Pick it up,’ I hissed. ‘ Now.