Never Ending Read Free Page A

they’ve done, or not done, since she returned from Greece has only made Shiv see how far apart they’ve been driven by what happened.
    Shiv goes to the window. It’s after six and the day is still full of light. Her room overlooks a vegetable plot to the rear of Eden Hall and, beyond that, an apple orchard, then rough pasture that rises to meet the wooded hill she saw from the drive.
    No view of the lake, then. That’s something to be glad about.
    A droning noise snags her attention. She spots the plane, high overhead, the sound seeming to come from somewhere else altogether. Shiv wonders where it’s headed. Not Kyritos, she supposes. She pictures the passengers, watching a movie, eating a meal, peering down at a miniaturized landscape – oblivious to her, thousands of metres below.
    It seems a lifetime ago, that flight. Or something that happened in another life, to someone else. A pretty stewardess, handing out boiled sweets to people to ease the discomfort in their ears during take-off; her brother asking for two, one for each ear. The stewardess laughing, like it was the first time she’d heard that joke.
    The tears come. So often they come, these days. Great gulping sobs that escape from her throat faster than she can breathe.
    At last, the tears stop. She stands there, braced against the windowsill.
    “Jee- zuss , what is this carpet all about?”
    Startled, Shiv twists round to see an older girl in the doorway, her scarlet mini-dress a shocking gash of colour.
    “Yellow and brown? Really? ” the girl continues. “Is the decor sponsored by the Brownies or something?” She gestures at the window. “No wonder you were going to jump . Although, hmm, second floor – is that gonna be high enough, d’you think?”
    Shiv laughs, despite herself. Wipes her cheeks with the cuff of her hoodie. She’s cried in front of too many strangers to care about adding another to the list.
    “I’m Caron . With a C.” The girl points at the wall with the lollipop-trees picture. “I’m next door. We can tap messages in code to each other in the night.” She smiles in the pause that follows. “OK, this is where you say your name.”
    “Oh … Shiv.”
    The older girl frowns. “That’s not a name, that’s a syllable .”
    Another laugh escapes Shiv. “It’s short for Siobhan.” She does the it’s-Irish-but-I’m-not explanation.
    “Well, hi, Shiv-short-for-Siobhan.”
    Caron steps further into the room and performs a pirouette in the centre of the swirly carpet. She has jet-black hair down to her bare shoulders and a fringe cut on the diagonal. Shiv watches her slip off her shoes – high-heeled, scarlet, to match the dress. Her lipstick is the same vibrant colour and so are her earrings.
    “These are killing me.” She flicks the shoes away with her toes. “But if I pack them in the case they crush.” Then, indicating the bed, “D’you mind?” She flops down.
    Shiv ought to feel invaded. She’s not usually keen on people with what Mum calls “big personalities”, but she can’t help liking this girl. After a few minutes with Caron, she feels a hundred times better than when she was sobbing at the window.
    “Seven bloody hours ,” Caron groans. She’s lying on her back, legs dangling off the end of the bed, arms raised, performing tai chi-type movements, as though painting the ceiling with an invisible brush. “Where’ve you travelled from, Shiv?”
    Shiv sits in the armchair. Names the town where she lives.
    Caron stops mid-brushstroke and eases up onto her elbows. “Siobhan who?” She stares at Shiv. Serious all of a sudden.
    Shiv could make something up but decides not to. “Siobhan Faverdale.”
    Caron sits up properly, eyes still fixed on Shiv’s face. Almost in a whisper, she says, “My God , you’re the sister of that boy.”
    It’s Caron’s idea to take a stroll in the grounds before dinner. After a day on the road, a walk and some fresh air will do them both good. Shiv suspects the