Shadow Baby Read Free Page A

eh?’ Evie withdrew and Mary muttered her way after her, into the small dark kitchen at the back of the house. ‘Nothing but bother, you’re nothing but bother, and what
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    thanks do I get these days, eh?’ Evie ignored her. She stood on a stool and kneaded the dough on the table, her little fists barely making any indentation, though she was trying so hard to do what her grandma did. The sight of the child’s ineffectual kneading recalled Mary to the task at hand. She picked up the dough and slapped it about, her hands no longer shaking, as they did when they were not busy, but suddenly strong and skilful. Evie watched and admired and, without needing to be told, smeared lard on the inside of the bread pan. There was silence until the dough was shaped and moulded into the pan and then Evie hopped on to another stool and, using an old dishcloth, carefully opened the door of the oven in the range. In went the bread and Mary sighed and sat down and said, ‘You’re a good girl when all’s said and done. We’ll have a cup of tea and you can sugar it.’
    She watched Evie take the blackened kettle off the hook over the fire. Very careful, the child was, did everything she was told carefully and liked to do it. There was no sulking, no impudence, not yet, but then she was only five, only just turned five. Not pretty, never would be, Mary had seen that from the beginning, but she was healthy, that was the main thing, and strong, and she had a cheerful disposition, so far. The tea was made and they both sat in front of the steaming mugs with a measure of contentment which each could sense in the other. ‘Well, Evie,’ Mary said, watching the child blow the steam and warm her hands on the mug, ‘I don’t know what’s to be done about you. I haven’t said you’re here, don’t you worry, but it can’t go on for ever, can it, eh? Not for ever. I won’t live much longer, that’s for sure, my time’ll be up soon, then what, eh?’ Evie said nothing at all in reply. She appeared quite unperturbed by her grandmother’s ramblings and only looked up from her tea at the ‘eh?’ sounds, as though not understanding the rest. Any ‘eh?’ commanded her attention, as it was meant to. Sometimes Mary said ‘eh?’ in no context at all, a sudden, harsh querying of nothing.
    Evie went on blowing the steam which rose from the tea and stirring the sugar she had been allowed to put in even though it had long since dissolved. She liked the faint tinkle of the spoon on the side of the mug, a sound too faint for her grandmother to catch and object to as she objected, inexplicably, to so many things. Each day, it seemed to Evie, was full of traps, of things she must not do or say. She must not get up until she was told, unless she needed to use the po and even then she was expected to hop back into bed sharpish
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    until given the signal to rise. Her grandmother slept in a double bed which took up most of the room and Evie slept on a mattress at the foot of it. There was room for three of her size in the bed with her grandmother, but she was not allowed to share it. ‘I might smother you,’ Mary said, and Evie accepted this as she was bound to accept everything.
    She knew this old woman was not in fact her grandmother because she had been told so, not long ago. ‘Am I your grandmother, eh?’ Mary had barked at her, sounding angry. She had nodded dumbly, though aware as ever of verbal traps. ‘No, I’m not,’ the old woman said. ‘Good as, used as, but I’m not, now don’t you forget, eh? You haven’t got a real grandmother and what do you need one for when you’ve got me willing, eh? You’ve got me willing, I dare say I’ll get my reward in heaven.’ And then, later, equally unexpected and sudden, she had said: ‘If anyone asks, mind, I am your grandmother, eh? You remember that, don’t you forget, it could be more than your life is worth.’ Evie’s heart had thudded a little at those words. It wasn’t