Girl A, Dan Scottow [best short books to read .TXT] 📗

father and in through the French doors. He glimpsed the flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and twisted towards the house. He lurched forwards, then half ran, half fell, over the lawn and into the living room.

Kitty took her chance. She stood up and scarpered.

She sprinted as fast as she could and didn’t stop until she got to the tree house that she and Kieran had built in the woods the previous summer. She climbed up the ladder and pushed the hatch open, pulling herself into the safety of their den.

She sat huddled inside, hugging her knees to her chest. As the sun went down, the walls around her turned orange, then deep scarlet. The birds stopped chirping. Something scurried past beneath her in the bushes. She didn’t care. Whatever it was couldn’t be any worse than her pig of a father.

The warmth faded with the light, and as the red changed to black, Kitty shivered. It was a summer evening, but she’d left without a jacket. She didn’t know how long she had been hiding, but she felt cold. She wanted to go home.

She slowly descended the ladder and made her way back.

Sliding through the gap in her fence, she tiptoed towards the house. The French doors were still wide open. There was a warm orange glow from one solitary lamp inside. The bright moon cast eerie shadows around the garden.

Kitty froze as she saw something lying on the grass midway between where she stood and the house.

She couldn’t make out what it was. A small pile. A rag, perhaps.

As she approached, she saw a clearer shape. The rough outline of fur.

A shaft of moonlight illuminated the animal. Kitty smiled as she edged closer to Smudge.

But something wasn’t right.

He would usually come running to her as soon as she was nearby.

But the kitten didn’t move.

She took a few more tentative steps towards him until she was standing over him.

He looked all wrong. His eyes bulged. His tongue lolled outside his mouth.

Kitty knelt down beside her beloved cat, picking him up gently. She cradled his lifeless body in her arms. But of course, she was too young to understand.

‘Smudge?’ His head fell awkwardly to one side and Kitty gasped. She dropped the cat onto the lawn and screamed.

‘Smudge, wake up!’ she cried. But the kitten didn’t move. He felt cold as she stroked his fur.

Kitty began to cry.

‘Smudge!’ she shouted, over and over again.

She didn’t notice her father until he was almost on top of her.

‘Daddy, something’s wrong with Smudge. He won’t wake up!’ Kitty bellowed through her sobs.

Her father stood staring at her, a sneer on his face.

‘He’s dead.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what you get. That’ll teach you to hide from me. You remember that.’

He turned away from her and wobbled back inside the house, leaving a stench of sweat, cigarettes and alcohol in his wake.

Kitty sat stroking her pet for a few minutes. She knew now that he was dead, but she couldn’t let go of him… not yet.

Eventually, after she had cried herself dry, she crawled to the edge of the garden and dug a hole in the flower bed with her hands. She returned to the cat, picking him up. She placed him into the hole and filled it in, patting it gently.

That was Kitty’s first experience of death.

But not her last.

She stood and turned back towards the house.

Wiping at her eyes, smearing a streak of mud across her cheek, she edged closer to the French doors.

As she reached the entrance, she stood for a while, picking at the dirt beneath her fingernails.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Her father’s voice came out in a growl. ‘In you come.’

23

It was scrawled messily on a scrap of paper.

Written in a hurry, but definitely Charlie’s handwriting.

He’d climbed into bed late the night before and had been up and away early. Beth assumed he was off to the gym before work. But when she got up, she found the note in the kitchen.

Beth turned it over in her hands, examining it carefully, searching for any sign that it was under duress. But she found none. It simply appeared to be a letter from her husband.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Nothing sinister.

Beth, I have to go away for a few days for work. Totally forgot to tell you yesterday. Sorry. Will be on the road a lot but will try to call when I can.

Love you.

C x

But something about it was odd.

Charlie hadn’t mentioned a trip. It was unlikely he had forgotten. That was not in his nature. Why hadn’t he spoken to her about it earlier when he bent over and kissed her as she lay in bed?

Beth screwed the note up, throwing it in the bin. She sipped her coffee, tapping her finger on the side of her mug.

The noise of a teenaged boy barrelling down the stairs filled the house and Peter appeared in the kitchen.

‘Morning,’ Beth shouted to him.

He grunted in her general direction, opened the fridge and removed a four-pinter of milk. He unscrewed the cap and gulped the contents down.

‘Use a glass, please.’

He ignored her as usual. Replaced the lid, placing the plastic bottle back on the shelf.

‘Where’s Dad?’ he asked.

‘He’s away with work, apparently.’

‘Till when?’

‘A few days.’

‘He never said, yesterday.’

‘No. He forgot.’

Peter raised an eyebrow. The lie wasn’t fooling him either.

He skulked over to the island unit, threw himself down onto a stool and sat fidgeting, lacing his hands over one another, staring down at his grubby fingers.

‘Have you seen my phone?’ he asked finally.

‘No. Where did you last have it?’

‘Not sure. If I knew that I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?’

‘How long is it since you’ve had it?’

‘Dunno. Couple of days?’

‘Peter! How can you be so careless with that thing?’

‘I swear I haven’t lost it. I bet Daisy has got it.’

‘We won’t be buying you another one. So you had better hope it turns up.’

‘Am I asking you to buy me another one?’ he replied sarcastically.

He got up and crossed to a