Burning Secrets Read Free Page A

squirrel, thought Daniel.
    â€œWell, I don’t want to sit drinking tea until we’ve got everything in,” Mum decided, heading back outside and almost tripping over a basket of vegetables – runner beans, tomatoes and courgettes – which had materialised on the doorstep, like an offering left at a shrine.
    â€œCoo-ee,” said a voice, and a short, very fat woman in a pair of drawstring shorts, trainers and a man’s check shirt appeared around the corner of the house, with an excited Chet capering at her heels. She was carrying a string bag of apples. “Windfalls,” she panted, indicating the bag. “Hope you don’t mind. They only rot if you leave them.” The effort of this act of trespass had left her sweating and short of breath. “I’m Winnie-next-door,” she went on. “Been keeping an eye on the place since Mr Ericsson left. I pop in and give it a clean every now and then.”
    â€œThank you,” said Mum. “It’s certainly very tidy inside. I wasn’t expecting that.”
    â€œOh, we all look out for each other here,” said Winnie-next-door. “They phoned from Port Julian when the ferry got in. Said you were on your way, so I left you some tea indoors. And there’s some veg. I’ll send my son, Kenny, round tomorrow with eggs.”
    â€œThat’s very kind of you,” said Mum.
    Daniel didn’t think it was kind. He thought it was creepy having their movements tracked and privacy invaded. This woman wandering in and out and having her own key to the place, like some kind of jailer.
    â€œI suppose you two will be starting at the high school,” Winnie said, smiling at Daniel and Louie, who shrugged and refused to be drawn into conversation.
    â€œI’m planning to home educate them, actually,” said their mum, coming to the rescue. “We’ve had bad experiences with schools in the past.” Winnie’s eyes widened. “Bullying and stuff.”
    â€œWell, there’s no bullying at Stape High,” Winnie insisted. “The head won’t allow it. She’s turned the place around in the last five years. Got a wonderful atmosphere now. You can tell all the pupils are happy the moment you walk in the place. Oh yes,” she gave a satisfied smile, “we’re very lucky on Wragge. Our young people never give us any trouble at all.”
    She set off across the grass, clearly her own short cut that didn’t involve using the path or gate.
    Fifteen minutes later the luggage was indoors, a small mountain of cases, holdalls and cardboard boxes at the bottom of the stairs. “You can only bring what we can fit in the car,” Daniel and Louie had been told back in London. “Which isn’t much, so pack wisely.” There’d been some disagreement about what items counted as personal belongings and what could be considered ‘house stuff ’ – saucepans, crockery, Chet’s basket, Chet himself. Somehow or other – chiefly by overloading the roof rack with larger items and stuffing every cranny of the car with smaller squashable things – life’s essentials had been accommodated. Now, they looked at the heap blocking the hallway without enthusiasm. “I suppose I’d better go and get some food before the shops shut,” Mum said wearily. “Are you coming?” she asked Louie.
    â€œWhat’s the alternative?”
    â€œStaying here. Putting away.” She gave a cardboard box marked KITCHEN STUFF a gentle kick.
    â€œComing,” said Louie.
    â€œWhat about you?” Daniel’s mum asked him.
    He grunted, non-committal. He didn’t have the slightest intention of doing any more ‘putting away’. From the tiny bathroom window upstairs he had caught a glimpse of sandy beach, and as soon as the others were out of the way he was going to check it out.
    â€œCan we get pizza?” he said to his mum as