The Considine Curse by Gareth P. Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

recessive gene but neither Kitson nor I have ever come across it before. It’s so unfortunate for her.’
    ‘And there’s nothing you can do?’ says Mum.
    ‘Mostly it’s possible to keep it under control with scented oils and perfumes but when she gets agitated it gets worse and they kept us waiting for so long today. Amelia didn’t want to keep going to freshen up in case she missed her call.’
    Amelia comes out of the toilet and Aunt Celeste changes the subject. ‘Well, I can see you two had a good shopping trip.’
    ‘What did you get?’ asks Amelia. ‘I wish I could have come with you.’ She has reapplied her make-up and doused herself in perfume and speaks brightly like nothing has happened.
    ‘I got some boots a bit like yours,’ I show them to her.
    ‘You should put them on now. You must be so tired of wearing those awful wellies.’
    The waitress comes over with mine and Mum’s order. Aunt Celeste orders cake. Amelia seems back to normal and no one mentions the audition again.
    It’s fun spending time with Amelia. She seems so confident and sure of herself apart from the outburst in the cafe. Being with her is a million times more enjoyable than spending time with Oberon and Gerald. I like Aunt Celeste too, even when she tries to give me chicken for dinner, on the basis that chickens are really only vegetables with wings.
    It gets late and Amelia shows me the room I’ll be sleeping in. It’s full of flowers. I realise now the flowers and potpourri are there to help mask the smell.
    My third night in England passes without incident. I fall straight to sleep and do not wake in the night. As usual my sleep is free from dreams and I awake refreshed for the first time since I landed in this cold country.

Chapter 8
    The Slaughtered Cow
    I spend the following day with Amelia, chatting and watching TV. Aunt Celeste apologises because she thinks she should be showing us the sights but Mum and I are happy to relax. In the afternoon Amelia shows me an album of photos of her, including some modelling ones in which she is wearing heavy make-up and pouting at the camera.
    ‘This is my favourite,’ she says of one of them. ‘Uncle Will took it. He’s an excellent portrait photographer but he prefers to do arty photographs, only there’s no money in those. That’s what Dad says. What I love about photography is that it can really capture a moment. I’m definitely going to concentrate on modelling not acting from now on. One agent told me I have professional cheekbones.’
    ‘Better than amateur ones,’ I reply.
    She laughs. It’s the first time she has come close to referring to the audition yesterday. I turn the page and see a photograph taken at a wedding.
    ‘This was taken when Uncle Will and Aunt Chrissie got married,’ she says.
    ‘How long ago was it?’ I ask. ‘You all look really young.’
    ‘About four years ago. I was ten I think. So Elspeth must have been four and Lily must have been the same age Elspeth is now. We were all bridesmaids.’
    In the photo Amelia, Lily and Elspeth are wearing identical pink dresses, holding tiny bunches of flowers.
    ‘Elspeth doesn’t look very happy,’ I say. Even as a little girl, dressed in a puffy pink dress, there is a dark brooding look in her eyes.
    Amelia laughs. ‘She’s not a natural bridesmaid. Lily looks pretty though, doesn’t she? I always tell her she should wear her hair back.’
    In the photo Lily has had her hair in a ribbon. Amelia’s right. She has a pretty face but it seems to me that she has lifted the bunch of flowers up to try to hide behind them. Only Amelia looks completely comfortable in front of the camera.
    ‘You’re going to theirs next,’ says Amelia. ‘Mum said Uncle Sewell is coming to take you to the campus tomorrow morning. It’s such a shame you couldn’t stay longer with me. School holidays can be lonely.’
    ‘Won’t you see any friends?’ I ask.
    Amelia closes the photo album and puts it away. For a