Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) Read Free Page A

scent of what passes for home to me. On that
thought I shout out. “I’m home.” The reply seems to take forever but eventually
I hear my mum’s voice from the kitchen as I take off my coat.
    “We’re in here Eleanor.” I wince
– this is the reason that I don’t like to be called Eleanor.
    Bursting into the dim kitchen I
smile exuberantly at the two women seated at the table. The smile fades
slightly when neither deign to return it, but I rally and brandish the carrier
bag. “Look what I’ve got,” I sing out, tipping the contents out onto the table.
    Tapping her finger on the plastic
wrapped bundle of fillet steak, my mum finally looks at me which is a rare
occurrence nowadays. “Why are you wasting our money on this Eleanor?” she
finally says and all of my energy finally dies out of me at her harsh voice and
I sink into a chair. For a brief shining moment I’d felt young again but I can
hardly remember it now because at this precise moment I feel eighty years old.
Resisting the desire to enquire how any of the money I’d spent had actually
come from her, I swallow the tight feeling down and smile ingratiatingly
at her.
    “I thought I’d spoil us mum,” I
say brightly. “Phil rang me on the way home and he’s offered me another jingle
so the rent will be paid for another month at least.”
    There’s silence for a minute and
then she stares at me with no expression at all, and the other woman at the
table stirs languidly. “Where have you been Eleanor?” my mum finally enquires,
and I squirm because this tone never bodes well.
    “Why?”
    “Oh, just because Mrs McDonald
rang a few hours ago with a complaint. It seems that young William was sat
waiting for his violin lesson this afternoon only to find out that his teacher
couldn’t be bothered to turn up. I managed to calm her down and promised her a
free lesson, but it’s left me wondering where you’ve been all day and where
this money came from.”
    Her voice is rising slightly now
and I wonder whether I’ve got this right and she’s actually implying that I’ve
turned to prostitution, or whether I’m imagining it. She stops and glares at me
breathing heavily and I sigh. I’m caught out and I’m too tired to find an
excuse.
    “I went to an audition,” I
finally say slowly.
    “For what?” snaps the reply after
a pregnant pause.
    “Backing singer for a band going
on tour.” I brace myself for the explosion which right on cue arrives a second
later.
    “Backing singer,” she screeches.
“Have you lost your mind Eleanor Slater? Have you forgotten what happened three
years ago or do you need reminding?”  Shaking my head sharply I go to
answer her but as normal she talks over me. “Eleanor you never fail to appal
me. Are you so wrapped up in the idea of fame that you’ll sacrifice what we’ve
got left? Was what we lost not enough to teach you a lesson last time?”
    Rising to my feet I feel blood
rush into my face and my temper is sparking. “I know you’re upset mum but
there’s no need for you to level that at me. Haven’t I suffered enough or do
you need another pound of flesh?”
    “How dare you,” she shouts, her
face reddening alarmingly.
    “I dare,” I say levelly, trying
hard to maintain calm. It isn’t worth losing my temper because she doesn’t
listen to me at all. There’s only one person she listens to and as if on cue
Molly stirs again and raises a limp, white hand with perfectly manicured nails.
    “Judy,” she says soothingly. “It
isn’t worth you getting so worked up. Think of your health.”
    My mum stutters and something
twists inside what’s left of my heart as I watch her face transform into
affectionate love as she takes Molly’s hand and lowers herself to her chair.
“You’re right Molly love,” she says softly. “I’ve got to look after myself
after all because if I’m not here who’s going to look after you?”
    I swallow hard. What about me ?
I want to scream. Who looks after me and