The Miracle Inspector by Helen Smith Read Free Book Online

life.
    Christina was lying on top of the covers on a single bed in the next room. She was an unremarkable-looking child, as they so often were. She looked about five years old although she might have been older. Maureen had probably mentioned her age but there was no need to get mired in details.
    He went up to Christina and smiled at her. ‘Hello.’ No response from Christina. He tried again. ‘Hello, Christine.’
    ‘Christina.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Christina, not Christine.’
    ‘Oh, I see.’
    ‘She understands you.’
    ‘Yes. Does she speak?’
    ‘The doctor says there’s nothing actually wrong with her vocal chords.’
    He hadn’t been paying attention. What was the miracle, exactly? That this poor little child was alive? That she could understand? Or was she supposed to heal the sick? Some of them were very good at the piano but he couldn’t see one in the room, so he might escape hearing any Rachmaninoff today. Dare he ask Maureen to go through it again? What if she reported him? But she wouldn’t. Who would she report him to?
    Lucas said, ‘You want to leave me alone with Christina, here? Might help me get a feel for her… special qualities.’
    She didn’t. He suddenly saw in her face all the awful fears every mother had these days. Maureen thought that he might do something nasty to little Christina. She didn’t believe that he would do it but she thought it. She’d been trained to think it. They all had. Even he thought it. He thought that if a man was left alone with little Christina, he might start touching her inappropriately. He himself wouldn’t do it. The next man wouldn’t do it, nor the next man, nor the next. You’d have to search long and hard to find one who would. But the suggestion was enough to condemn them all to this hell of a life. There was no proper education for the kids, no life outside the home for the women, all of it to keep them safe from inappropriate touching. What if the thought of it was more harmful? What if the fear that covered them all was worse than one child sometimes being touched? You couldn’t say it, of course. Say something like that and they’d lock you up forever. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he even really meant it. He wasn’t sure what he thought about anything. They’d all been conditioned to believe what the authorities wanted them to believe.
    ‘Sir? Do you mind if I stay with her? In case she needs something?’
    ‘No, course not. It’s better if you stay. I’m just going to talk to her. Or perhaps I could watch for a minute, while you talk to her. Could you talk to her?’
    Maureen looked relieved. She’d decided he was a decent bloke. She’d probably decided that the moment he’d had a piece of her lemon drizzle cake. She’d have made it specially for his visit and another man – someone like Jones – wouldn’t have accepted it. Someone like Jones might have wanted it but he’d have said no. Whereas Lucas knew she’d gone to a lot of trouble and he’d had a piece and it was quite nice. He wasn’t born this way, with the ability to put himself in someone else’s place; to empathise. It was the sort of thing you picked up, doing a job like this.
    ‘Do you have kids?’
    ‘Not yet. One day.’
    ‘Married, though? Young chap like you, handsome.’
    Alright, Maureen, calm down. I had a piece of your lemon drizzle cake, that’s all. ‘Can you talk to Christina, then, tell her why I’ve come?’
    Maureen turned to her little daughter. ‘He’s heard you’re special, Christina.’
    That caught him unexpectedly, nearly choked him. Everything about it. The love in Maureen’s voice when she spoke to the child. The lie of it, the terrible lie in that word special. She was a sweet enough little child, she was loved. But special? She was terribly unfortunate; that was the word he would have used. He felt suddenly so desolate and desperate that if he’d had a gun in his hand now, he would have put the barrel in his mouth and pulled