The Alphabet Sisters by Monica McInerney Read Free Book Online Page A

“Girls will be girls, won’t they, Jim? I know my two can be tearing each other’s eyes out one moment, giggling over a bottle of wine the next. When we first had two daughters, I was a bit upset, don’t mind telling you that. I wanted boys, sons, to play footy with. Now, I love it. The dramas! No need to watch soapies with them around the place.”
    Jim knew Len’s daughters well. As gossipy as their father, what they didn’t know about people they made up. Well, let them make up what they liked about Anna, Bett, and Carrie. The gossip would blow over soon enough, once something else happened in the town to grab everyone’s attention. He’d actually admitted to Geraldine he was glad Lola had done what she’d done, bringing the girls back together like this. They’d both felt a twinge of guilt that they hadn’t thought of it themselves. But when did they get time to sort out things like that? And neither of them had ever wanted to be the interfering kind of parent.
    The phone rang, the sound echoing across the forecourt. Jim knew Geraldine was at the reception desk and would answer it, but Len didn’t. He leaned over and took the invoice out of the butcher’s hand himself. “Better run, Len. See you tonight. And thanks for the meat.”
    Geraldine winked over at her husband as he came in through the front door, rolling his eyes. Len drove them both up the wall, but his meat was first rate, and he delivered to their door. Holding the phone against her ear with one hand, she took the invoice from Jim with the other, mouthed a thanks, and kept talking, even as she carefully filed the piece of paper in the “Bills to be paid” folder to the left of the computer. From the bar she heard the sound of Jim picking up the plastic bin of empty bottles, ready for a trip to the recycling depot.
    She concentrated on keeping the warm, friendly tone to her voice. “That’s no problem at all, Mr. Lawrence. And you’re still happy with that room? Very good. Thank you very much.”
    This Richard Lawrence in room two was turning out to be the perfect guest, she thought as she hung up. Extending his stay week by week, keeping to himself, and so polite. Such a charming English accent, too. Geraldine was mildly curious what he was up to—some sort of writing project, she’d gathered, after seeing the computer and the piles of paper spread around his room when she delivered his breakfast or cleaned his room—but she wouldn’t dream of asking him for any details about it. Not like some other people in this motel …
    She made a note in the bookings register and then, using two fingers, carefully typed the same information into the computer on the desk beside her. Carrie had been very persuasive, insisting that it really was very efficient and that of course Geraldine would be able to master it. One day, perhaps. She tentatively pressed Save and gave a satisfied sigh, just as a blue station wagon pulled up outside.
    A casually dressed man with dark hair leaped out of the driver’s seat, reached into the back for a pile of newspapers, then took the steps, two at a time, and came inside. “Mrs. Quinlan? Your copies of the Valley Times, hot off the press. Will I leave them here?”
    “Yes, thank you.” He wasn’t the usual newspaper delivery man, but he did look vaguely familiar. Then again, so did half the townspeople when you’d lived in a place this long. “Where’s Pat?”
    “He had a bit of an accident last night.”
    “Not again. Is he all right?”
    “Nothing two weeks in a drying-out clinic won’t fix.”
    “Oh dear. He fell off the wagon again?”
    “Not so much fell as took a great, voluntary leap, I think.”
    “Who are you talking about?”
    They both turned. Lola had come in behind them.
    “Pat from the newspaper office,” Geraldine explained. “The man who normally does the deliveries.”
    Lola nodded, giving the new arrival a good close look. His hair was a bit long, but she liked those laughter