The Girls by Lisa Jewell Read Free Book Online Page B

Rhea remembered Leo and his brothers as babies. Her own babies were already grandparents and she shared her flat with her nineteen-year-old grandson whom she referred to as her roomie.
    Adele had been greedily awaiting this break from teaching the girls, but instead of spending her days sitting out on the terrace with a mug of tea and Rhea’s manuscript, she was spending it tending to the needs of an old man with a very painful foot. The foot itself; well, she didn’t want to dwell too long on the physical reality of the thing. How he could have got from Bangui via Casablanca on a combined thirteen-hour flight with a foot that was virtually rotten to the core and with at least one gangrenous toe, she had no idea. His wife, a former nurse, had been tending to his foot at home. But his wife’s mother was having cancer treatment and as much as Gordon had probably tried to bully and cajole Affie into travelling with him, she hadn’t been able to. Adele had already said there was no way she was even going to look at the foot again, let alone touch it. So they’d arranged for a private hospital to send a nurse twice a day to dress it and medicate him. But in between times and while they awaited confirmation for the operation date, Adele was playing nurse.
    She put down her mug and turned to look through the patio doors. Gordon was stretched out on the sofa, covered with a blanket, one hand in a packet of Cadbury’s Eclairs, the other on the remote control. He was peering out of the window and as Adele walked into the room he said, ‘Ah, Mrs H. You came! Thank God!’
    Adele forced a smile. ‘What can I do for you, Gordon?’
    ‘Well, first of all can you show me how to get this blasted TV to show me something that isn’t a load of middle-aged hags screaming about who does or doesn’t do the housework?’ He flapped the remote at the television, which was showing Loose Women . ‘And secondly’ – he adjusted his position slightly and winced – ‘I’m afraid I do rather need to visit the bathroom again. If you wouldn’t mind just giving me a hand out of this thing.’ He gestured at the sofa and grimaced.
    Adele’s teeth ground together with the effort of looking pleasant. ‘No problem.’ She offered Gordon her shoulder, wrapped her arm around his back and used her spare hand to pull him up by the elbow.
    He puffed and gasped. ‘Christ,’ he hissed, finding his balance. ‘Christ.’
    He leaned against Adele for a moment. She gripped his elbow, helping steady him. Then she passed him his stick. He took it from her and sighed. ‘Never thought it would come to this, Mrs H.,’ he said, sadly. ‘Really never did.’ Then he brightened a degree, turned to look out of the window at the communal gardens, smiled and said, ‘Some of the best years of my life out there. All those endless summers in the seventies, the little ones running about, everyone up to God knows what. Did I ever tell you about the girl who streaked across the lawn with a lampshade on her head? Nobody did ever work out who it was.’ He chuckled, caressing the wooden bird on his stick. ‘And whatever happened to that lovely girl, what was her name? Little blonde thing. Mother was the headmistress of the girls’ school up the road?’
    ‘Cecelia?’
    ‘Yes!’ he clicked his fingers. ‘Cecelia. That was the one. Pretty, pretty little thing. Whatever happened to her, I wonder?’
    ‘She still lives here,’ said Adele. ‘Her mum’s in a home now. But Cecelia still lives in the same flat. And she’s got a daughter now, same age as Fern. Tyler.’
    His gaze turned to the window again. He licked his dry lips. ‘Lovely girl,’ he murmured. He turned slowly and headed towards the bathroom, shuffling in his huge slippered feet, pausing every now and then to let the pain subside, singing creakily under his breath as he went: ‘“Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart, you’re shaking my confidence daily,”’ giving a showgirl kick at the