Lyrebird Hill Read Free

his elbow. ‘Stop looking so glum. Remember what we talked about?’
    I stared at him blankly.
    He sighed. ‘Let it go, okay?’
    ‘Sure,’ I muttered, fretfully tugging a strand of dark hair loose from my ponytail. ‘I’ll try.’
    Rob smiled indulgently and kissed the top of my head, then returned his attention to the crowd. I glared at him from the corner of my eye. He looked good. No trace of tiredness after the drive from the coast, not a button out of place. The navysuit and crisp shirt made his eyes seem bluer, his teeth whiter. I sighed. I’d been looking forward to this moment for weeks; looking forward to showing Rob off, proving to Mum that I’d got my act together, stepped up in the world, done well for myself. Met a man who was not only hunky, but successful as well. I should have been triumphant; I should have been holding my head high, pink-cheeked with happiness.
    Instead, I was a wreck.
    Rob nudged me again. ‘Here she comes.’
    A glimmer of turquoise, the flash of a familiar smile. Mum paused to greet a bald man and they spoke quietly for a while, nodding and looking mutually fascinated. Suddenly Mum threw back her head and laughed.
    The warbling bell-like sound of it caught me off guard.
    Suddenly I was a child again, a gangly twelve-year-old standing in the kitchen of our old house. The air smelled charred from the toast Mum had just burned. She’d been gaunt and grey-faced back then, her eyes shadowed by grief, her mouth turned down. Her hair had been long and unkempt, and she’d smelled of alcohol. There’d been no smiles, no hint of warbling laughter. Tears were all she had to give. Tears and blame.
    What happened that day, Ruby? Why can’t you remember?
    Jamie was Mum’s firstborn, her favourite. Three years older than me, Jamie had inherited our mother’s fine features and slim frame. She’d also been outgoing and bubbly, the way Mum was. My sister and I were both dark-haired, but that was where the resemblance ended. I’d always been weighty, even as a child. I was shy and wore glasses. Books saved me, but neither my sister nor my mother ever really understood my addiction to reading. They didn’t exactly disapprove, but the word ‘bookworm’ always seemed to be spoken in a way that made me squirm.
    After Jamie died, amid my pain and confusion and guilt, I’d entertained the hope that Mum’s favour would transfer to me.I waited through the tearful years; waited for Mum’s grief to wear thin, for her smile to return, for her trilling laugh to once again ring through our house. Eventually it did, and there even came a time when she could look at me without crying. But I’d given up waiting for Mum’s favour. Jamie had died, but she had never been forgotten.
    ‘Ruby!’ Mum waved. She excused herself from the bald man and hurried over. ‘Darling, how lovely to see you!’ She pecked my cheek and gave me a swift hug, then stood back to appraise me. Her smile slipped. ‘I see you’ve let your hair grow. A pity, it looked so nice short.’
    ‘Hi, Mum.’ I attempted a smile, but there followed an awkward moment in which I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    Mum turned her attention to the man beside me. ‘Hello there, you must be Rob?’
    Rob beamed, engulfing my mother’s slender hand in his large one, pulling her imperceptibly closer. ‘Delighted to meet you, Mrs Cardel. Ruby has told me so much about you.’
    ‘Please, call me Margaret.’ She smiled, then seemed to hesitate, as if uncertain. ‘You look familiar, Rob. Have we met?’
    Rob gave a sexy chuckle. ‘If we had, I’d certainly have remembered. You’ve probably seen my ugly mug in a bookshop window somewhere. My third book’s just come out, Emotional Rescue . Maybe you’ve noticed it around?’
    ‘Not yet, but I insist on hearing all about it. You’ve obviously taken time out of your busy schedule to travel up here to see my show. I must say I’m flattered.’
    ‘Wouldn’t have missed it for