The Scent of Apples Read Free Page A

somewhere. I know he would suggest that we bury her in the garden and keep her head above ground so the birds can use that hair as a nesting ground.
    â€˜Come in, come in.’ Mum sweeps her hands wide as she ushers them inside. The smell of freshly waxed wood in the hall is overshadowed by baking smells as we head for the kitchen.
    â€˜I’m afraid our front room is being decorated at the moment, so we’ll have to settle for the kitchen.’ Mum casts a look in my direction that says Not a word, Elizabeth, not a word . ‘Have a seat,’ she says casually, pointing to the exact seats we need to sit on.
    I try not to glare at Lucy and her frilly white blouse and miniature handbag. Clearly she won’t want to climb trees in that get-up. To be fair, I don’t really know Lucy, as I go to Saint Catherine’s and she goes to Queens, a school for young ladies on the edge of town. But the way she is sitting, with her hands folded neatly on her lap and her ankles crossed over, like an adult in waiting, makes me think that I don’t really want to get to know her.
    â€˜What a quaint little kitchen,’ Lady Mayor says, taking in Nan’s pottery rooster collection. Mum did banish the birds to an overhead cupboard, but Nan found them and arranged them in little groups on the Welsh dresser. ‘I was hoping to meet your husband.’
    â€˜Oh yes, he was dying to meet you also, but you know how it is with these men. Work comes first,’ Mum says in a cheery voice.
    I have to shake my head, not believing what I’m hearing. Just last night, I heard them arguing in their bedroom. Mum told Dad she might as well be a solo parent: he was always either away or working in his office behind a closed door. Dad’s reply was muffled by the pillow I pulled over my ears to drown out their voices.
    Mum takes an apple and blackberry pie from the oven, and as she sets it on the bench her face is flushed. She spoons it into bowls, giving Lady Mayor an extra big helping, and ladles a pile of cream on the top.
    While we wait for our pie to cool down, Lady Mayor and Mum start singing our praises. It’s like watching some weird ping pong game where the ball is made up of words.
    â€˜Lucy made us so proud last week, didn’t you dear?’ Lady Mayor grins at Lucy, who beams back. ‘She won the most promising dancer at her ballet school.’
    Mum manages a weak smile, but she has one of those unfortunate smiles that, weak or full, exposes half of her teeth, making it look more like a snarl.
    â€˜How lovely. Actually, Elizabeth’s school wants to put her up a class.’
    â€˜Well, that’s good. Lucy’s always been in the top class. I find streaming is the only way for the brighter children to learn.’
    â€˜I absolutely agree.’ Mum takes a sip from her tea cup. The curl has disappeared from her finger and it now pokes straight out. ‘Elizabeth’s school is talking about putting her up a whole year.’
    It’s the first I’ve heard of this. Mum seems to think that there can only be a certain amount of beautiful and smart people in the world, and as I’m obviously not pretty, she needs everyone to know I’m one of the smart ones.
    I look across at Lucy, who appears to be enjoying the competition.
    â€˜Come on, Lucy. I’ll show you around outside.’ I look at her shiny shoes and her socks with pink lace around the top. ‘I’ve got some boots you can wear.’
    Mum frowns.
    â€˜Elizabeth, not everyone enjoys your passion for the outdoors.’
    I’m surprised that my normal running around has turned into a passion, but I’m happy to go along with it.
    â€˜We won’t be long.’ I pull on Lucy’s hand, hoping she’ll get the hint that we have to escape now.
    Mum looks at Lucy’s clothes and fixes me with a steely gaze.
    â€˜I’m sure Lucy would prefer to see your room. Why don’t you