Cicada Summer Read Free

lovingly prepared for you three hours ago. I’ve had mine . Got tired of waiting.’
    Inside, Mo’s house was dark and musty, the awnings drawn down to shut out the glaring summer sun. Eloise sidled along the narrow hallway after Dad, trying not to knock anything over. Books tottered in piles on the floor, spilled from shelves, slid from heaps on chairs and tables.
    ‘What’s for lunch? Hope we haven’t come all this way for one of your famous baked-bean jaffles!’ called Dad. He winked at Eloise. ‘Don’t be scared of Mo,’ he whispered. ‘She loves a good fight. You have to stand up to her.’
    Dad and Eloise squeezed themselves into chairs and Mo banged bowls onto the dining table. ‘It’s soup.’
    Eloise spooned it up and let it trickle back into the bowl. Unidentifiable lumps floated in a steaming pinkish-brown liquid.
    ‘Got the recipe from the next-door neighbours,’ said Mo. ‘Beetroots were on special this week, apparently. I was just making up another batch.’
    ‘Thought beetroots were a winter thing.’ Dad slurped warily. ‘Mm. That’s not bad, actually.’ He flashed Mo his most charming grin.
    Eloise lifted her spoon cautiously to her lips. There was a flavour she couldn’t quite identify. Mo was watching her across the table. Eloise’s heart began to thump again. She chased a thread of yoghurt with her spoon and it dissolved into nothing.
    ‘Magnificent. I’m impressed.’ Dad laid down his spoon and cleared his throat. ‘Actually, Mo, there was a small favour I wanted to ask.’
    Mo folded her arms. ‘Spit it out.’
    ‘Accommodation,’ said Dad. ‘For Eloise. Just for a few weeks, while I’m running around. I’ve got to go back to the city for a while, finalise the investors, talk to architects, put the plans together, that kind of thing.’
    ‘Why couldn’t she stay where she was?’
    ‘That was . . . only temporary. Not suitable.’ Dad didn’t say anything about Bree.
    Eloise had never liked Bree much. Bree always called her Ellie. Bree thought Eloise was weird.
    ‘She can’t stay here,’ said Mo flatly. ‘There’s nowhere to put her.’
    ‘What about my old room?’
    ‘Excuse me; you haven’t lived here for seventeen years. Things change. That’s my study now.’
    ‘You’re not still writing that book, are you? The same one? The boat thing?’
    ‘ A Brief History of Sea Voyages , yes.’
    ‘Brief ? You’ve only been writing it for twenty years! Lucky it’s not a long history!’
    ‘Hilarious,’ said Mo coldly.
    ‘Not to mention the fact that you’ve never even seen the sea—’ ‘Haven’t you heard of the internet, Stephen?’
    They glared at each other. Then Dad said, more cajolingly, ‘How about that old flop-out in the sunroom, is that still there? She won’t mind roughing it for a while, she’s used to it. Aren’t you, Elder Statesman? As long as she’s got her pencils and paper, she’s happy.’
    Eloise stared at the tablecloth. Her stomach was turning corkscrews.
    ‘She doesn’t look happy to me,’ said Mo. ‘Maybe you should have discussed this plan with her before. Maybe you should have discussed it with me .’
    ‘She’s your granddaughter; you haven’t seen her since she was four. I thought you’d love to spend some time with her!’
    ‘No, you didn’t. You only thought about what was convenient for you .’
    ‘Come on, Mo. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do—’ ‘Just the small matter of my work .’
    ‘Oh please. You call that work?’
    ‘You think you’ve done better, do you? Dragging that poor kid around since Anna died. What kind of life is that for a child? Look at her! She hasn’t spoken a word since she arrived! What’s wrong with her?’
    There was a terrible silence.
    ‘There’s nothing wrong with Eloise,’ said Dad.
    ‘When did she stop speaking? Or didn’t you notice?’
    ‘She’s just quiet. She lives in her own world. She always has, even when Anna was—’
    There was a rapping