Where Everything Seems Double, Penny Freedman [best inspirational books txt] 📗

but she had ignored them, and she woke up feeling cheerful and optimistic about the day ahead. Having David here was fun, actually, she reflected as she lay in bed. He treated her as a grown-up and with any luck he would keep Granny off her back, so that she didn’t have to keep her informed of her whereabouts at all times. She didn’t know if the gang had plans for the day but she would find out. Venetia would come in and tell her, if she’d got over her spiky mood yesterday, or the boys would arrive off the ferry – probably the ten o’clock one. And she might have pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast because they did look good.

At breakfast, Granny wasn’t eating much. She said she had a headache and hadn’t slept well, but David was fine and they obviously had a plan for doing something later, which left her free. When Venetia didn’t turn up, she decided to go down to the jetty and wait for the ferry to come in. The morning was sunny and bright, though their breakfast waiter had said there was going to be rain later. She looked out over the lake and up to the hills above for signs of rainclouds, but they were all fluffy white at the moment and the day was still full of promise. She liked the phrase, though she supposed it was a cliché, and tried it over to herself: full of promise.

As the ferry approached, she could see Micky with his father at the helm and waved. He waved back, but when she went and stood close to where he was handing passengers off the boat, he seemed to be ignoring her. Eve got off and waved Freda a cheerful Hello, but she didn’t have Milo or Fergus with her. And then Venetia appeared, running down at the last minute and jumping onto the ferry, brushing past Freda as though she hadn’t noticed her, and barely acknowledging her, as the ferry pulled away, with just a little twiddle of her fingers. A gesture that said Cancelling you.

So, Venetia could be rude if she wanted to. Cancel her too. She would go along to Eve’s studio and find out what the boys were doing. They might have rowing practice, she thought, and in that case she would see if she could help Eve with her pots – or whatever else she was doing.

She found her dusting and arranging pots. She said, ‘Hello darling,’ but she seemed distracted, and when Freda asked her what Milo and Fergus were doing she was vague. ‘I don’t know if they have plans,’ she said, while she was giving a critical look to one of her pots. ‘They were still in bed, I think, when I left.’

Freda waited to see if she would ask if she’d like to help her, and when she didn’t she said – and she sounded pathetic to herself – ‘Granny is busy with David.’

Eve put down the pot. ‘I would find you something to do here, darling,’ she said, ‘but it’s Sunday. It’s all sales to the tourists today. Nothing creative.’

‘I wondered if maybe you all went to church on Sundays,’ Freda said.

Eve looked at her. ‘Because of being Irish?’ she asked.

‘Well, I suppose. But because of what Milo was wearing yesterday. I wondered why he had those clothes on holiday.’

‘Good observation,’ Eve said. ‘No wonder you’re a good artist. But those were Micky’s clothes, borrowed for the occasion. I was afraid the police would take Milo for an Irish ruffian if he went in in his ripped jeans.’

So if they weren’t going to church, what were they planning? And if it didn’t include her, what was she going to do? She did her best not to sound needy. ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘It’s a good chance to do some sketching,’ but she knew her voice sounded a bit wobbly. ‘Good luck with sales,’ she added as she made for the door.

‘Hold on,’ Eve called. ‘Why don’t you call the boys? They may have rowing practice but they’ll be free at some point, I’m sure.’

‘I haven’t got their numbers. And there’s no signal here, is there?’

‘There’s the magic spot in the car park. Do you know about that? Here.’ She handed Freda her phone. ‘That’s Milo’s number. Put it in your phone.’ And then, as Freda was leaving, she said, ‘Sales slacken off around tea-time. If you’re at a loose end then, come back and I’ll draw you. Your granny asked me if I would.’

Freda quite wanted to give her a hug. She was so nice. Nicer than Granny, actually, who didn’t seem to care about her at all at the moment, not since David arrived. She almost skipped along the lake to the car park, but as two bars sprang up on her phone she felt oddly nervous about ringing Milo. She felt suddenly very much only just thirteen – a pestering little girl in Milo’s eyes. But he had wanted her there yesterday, hadn’t he, when he went to the police? And he had told Venetia to lay off when she was getting at her. He was nice. She found his number and called. It rang out, and then there was his message:

‘This is Milo. Sorry I can’t talk at the moment. Busy doing something else. Leave me a message why don’t you?’

Leave a message? She couldn’t. Anything she said would sound sad and whiney. She clicked off. While she was here with her phone working she thought she could ring and have a chat with her mum. She imagined her and Ben at the kitchen table with coffee and the Sunday paper and she felt her insides do an odd thing that made her realise for the first time why “homesick” was called that. She punched the number and then remembered that today was when they were flying to Ancona – Mum, Ben and Nico. They were probably on the plane right