Noughts and Crosses, Malorie Blackman [types of ebook readers .txt] 📗

to do that, Jude.’ Mum waited until Sephy had gone before rounding on my brother.

‘Oh yes he did,’ Dad answered before Jude could open his mouth. ‘She wasn’t wanted here. Jude only told her the truth.’

Mum wasn’t the only one to stare at Dad. Where had all that come from? I’d thought Dad’s motto was to live and let live. When had that changed? When Lynny died . .? Or maybe it was there all the time and I’d just chosen not to see it.

‘Ryan . .?’ Mum said.

Around us, people started talking again – nervous, embarrassed chatter. I reached Mum’s side at the same time as Dad.

He stopped and looked straight at Mum, a cold, hard expression on his face I’d never seen before. ‘Meggie,’ he said. ‘My ineffectual days are over.’

Then he moved past her. Mum turned to stare after him. I watched Dad’s retreating back. There was something about him, the way he walked, the way he talked . . . Something in his voice scared me. Scared the living daylights out of me.

forty-one. Sephy

It’d only been three years since Callum’s mum had worked for mine. Three short years. Three years had passed like three minutes to me, but walking into Callum’s house had been like walking into a room full of strangers. I remembered Callum’s mum and dad so clearly but my memory of them was nothing like the reality. They hadn’t wanted me there. Not one of them had. With everything that’d happened to my mother, I wanted to show them that I really did care, that I understood. Minnie and I could’ve so easily been in the same boat as Callum, no matter what Juno said.

Each move I made in Callum’s direction just seemed to pave my way faster to hell.

forty-two. Callum

I went and sat down beside Sephy on the beach. Neither of us spoke. I was getting sand on my one good suit but I didn’t care. I was past caring.

‘I didn’t mean any harm, Callum,’ Sephy said at last.

‘I know but . . .’

‘But it wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had in my life,’ Sephy sighed.

‘Not as such – no,’ I said.

‘I can’t seem to do anything right at the moment,’ Sephy said at last. There wasn’t a trace of self-pity in her voice, just the merest hint of sadness. ‘I am sorry about your sister, Callum. I just wanted to show how much. I thought sending a card would be a bit . . . a bit . . .’

‘Impersonal?’

‘Exactly,’ Sephy sighed again. ‘It was just a spur of the moment thing to walk over to your house. I thought it’d make a difference somehow.’

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing.

‘This is growing up, isn’t it?’ Sephy asked.

‘I think it is,’ I nodded.

‘Would you put your arm round me please?’

I hesitated.

Sephy sighed. ‘If you’d rather not.’

‘No, it’s not that.’

Sephy gave me one of her looks.

‘I just . . . never mind.’ I put my arm around her. She put her head on my shoulder. And we both sat and watched the waves foam up on the beach and the shadows lengthen.

THE SPLIT

forty-three. Sephy

Minnie and I walked along the corridor towards Mother’s private room. It’d been two weeks since Mother’s accident. Karl, our chauffeur, brought us to see Mother each evening and although Mother was physically better, her behaviour was really making me worry. The mother I’d got used to over the last few years had disappeared, and in her place . . .

‘Minerva! Persephone! I’m so glad to see you. I’ve missed you both so much. Come and give me a hug.’

Minnie and I glanced at each other before doing as we’d been asked. Mother hugged Minnie, then gave me a bear hug which left me breathless.

‘I love both of you so much,’ she told us, her voice trembling with emotion. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

Minnie nodded, embarrassed.

‘We love you too, Mother,’ I said, feeling very uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to Mother saying such things. Jeez! I wasn’t used to Mother saying much of anything.

‘I know you love me.’ Mother pulled me to her to kiss both my cheeks. It was only by a supreme effort that I didn’t wipe my face the moment she released me.

‘You’re the only ones who care whether I live or die,’ Mother continued. The gratitude in her voice made me feel incredibly uncomfortable – and guilty. Had Dad been to see her yet?

‘Your friends would visit you too, if you told them you were in here,’ Minnie pointed out.

‘NO! No. I don’t want anyone . . . No. I’ll see them when I leave.’

‘When will that be?’

‘When I’m all better,’ Mother announced brightly. Too brightly. Minnie and I exchanged another look.

‘Are you coming to see me tomorrow?’ Mother asked.

‘Yes, of course,’ Minnie said.

‘Do me a favour? Could you bring me my make-up bag? I feel naked without my make-up.’

‘OK, Mother,’ Minnie said, quietly.

Mother was still smiling, a frantic almost manic look on her face. ‘Oh, and a bottle of champagne – to celebrate my lucky escape,’ Mother laughed.

‘Champagne?’

‘Yes, of course. Or failing that, some white wine will do.’

‘Mother, I don’t think that’s a good idea . . .’

‘Just do as you’re told.’ The first crack appeared in Mother’s mask. She plastered it over with a broad smile. ‘Sorry, love. I’m a bit on edge. If you don’t help me Minnie, no-one else will. Y-your father hasn’t even been to see me. Not a phone call. Not so much as a Get Well Soon card.’ An even wider smile than before. ‘So I’m celebrating. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. So bring me what I asked for – OK, sweetie?’

‘OK, Mother.’

‘Good girl.’

‘I love you, Minerva.’

‘Yes, Mother.’

‘My two best girls.’ Mother leaned back with a smile. Her smile faded into a