While My Eyes Were Closed by Linda Green Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t hold with toasters for crumpets. It is not the right type of heat. I wait until the first side is golden brown then turn them over with my tongs. When the other side is done I pop them onto the bread board and spread with butter before putting them onto plates, watching as thebutter drips into the holes. I empty the tea-pot, scoop in the tea leaves and give it a good stir before replacing the lid and popping the cosy back on. Some people say it is a lot of trouble to go to when you are on your own but I don’t see why you should let your standards slip because there is no one around to notice. I go to the fridge and take out the carton of milk. I am glad I stuck with the full-cream now that I have a young visitor in the house again. Children should always have full-cream. Though I don’t suppose she gets it at home. It will be the milk the mother wants for her diet, no doubt. Nobody thinks of the children these days.
    Ella Fitzgerald’s voice is still coming from the lounge. I pop my head around the kitchen door and see the child standing in the hall looking at the photographs of Matthew. Melody is rubbing around her legs. The child turns when she hears me approaching.
    ‘Who are all these boys?’ she asks.
    ‘Matthew. Just at different ages.’
    ‘But his hair is darker in those ones,’ she says, pointing at the more recent photos.
    ‘That’s right. Often fair hair gets a bit darker as you get older. Yours probably will too.’
    She shakes her head. ‘No. My hair is always going to be like this. Grandma said so.’
    I decide not to take issue with this in case it upsets her. ‘Come through to the kitchen now then. Your crumpet is ready.’
    ‘Does Otis ever have crumpets when he comes?’ she asks as she follows me through.
    ‘No. None of my pupils do. I don’t want greasy fingers on the piano, you see.’
    ‘I’ll tell Otis later,’ she says. ‘Tell him that I’ve had crumpets and he hasn’t.’
    I do not like the bragging tone in her voice. It happens with siblings, I am well aware of that. But it does make them appear ill-mannered compared to only children. Matthew never boasted or bragged. Not once.
    ‘Well, you will sit down nicely to eat it,’ I say. ‘And whatever you may be used to at home, we have no talking with your mouth full here.’
    She gives me an uncertain look as I pour my tea but sits at the table and starts to eat her crumpet. As it happens, I need not have worried about her speaking with her mouth full. She is too intent on eating to speak. Clearly the poor child was hungry as well.
    She picks up the glass of milk and glugs a good half of it before putting it down and wiping the milk from the corners of her mouth with her hand. She has much to learn but I decide not to bombard her with everything at one sitting.
    ‘I like crumpets,’ she says as I take a sip of tea. ‘But your milk tastes funny.’
    ‘It’s proper milk, with none of the goodness taken out.’
    ‘Is it from different cows?’
    ‘No, same cows. But it’s the right milk for growing children.’
    ‘Why does my mummy get the wrong milk?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘You will have to ask her that.’
    The sound of a siren pierces the stillness of the kitchen. I know instantly that it is the mother. That she has called the police. The stupid, stupid woman. If she had been paying attention, if she hadn’t been so busy with her silly phone, if she had taken care of her child properly in the first place, none of this would have happened.
    ‘Excuse me,’ I say as I stand up.
    ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘Just to use the bathroom.’
    ‘Is Mummy on her way?’
    ‘You finish your milk like a good girl.’
    I leave the kitchen swiftly and go upstairs, where I look out of the landing window. I can see the flashing lights of a police car further up the road. It is impossible to see more because of the trees. They are looking for her now. I could put a stop to this so easily. Could take her back right