Apple of My Eye by Patrick Redmond Page A

true.’
    She looked up into his face. He was smiling. She smiled back.
    ‘Your mother’s very proud of you. She thinks you’re the bravest girl in the world.’
    ‘She’s brave too.’
    ‘You love her very much.’
    ‘More than anyone.’
    ‘She went away once.’
    ‘Yes. She got scared.’
    ‘Scared?’
    ‘Scared of everything. That’s what Dad said. But then she got brave so she came back home.’
    ‘Do you think of what would happen if she became scared again?’
    She remembered the blank look in her mother’s eyes. A chill swept over her. ‘I won’t let her get scared.’
    A lock of hair had fallen across her cheek. He brushed it back. ‘That’s a big responsibility for someone as young as you.’
    ‘I’m not a baby.’
    ‘I know that. But it’s still a burden. Perhaps I can help.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘By being your friend. Someone you can talk to if you get scared now your father’s not here. You do get scared, don’t you?’
    Silence.
    ‘You do, don’t you? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Even the bravest girl in the world is allowed to get scared sometimes.’
    She wanted to deny it. But his eyes were sympathetic. Understanding. Just like her father’s had been.
    ‘I get scared Mum will go away and never come back.’
    ‘Is that what scares you most in the world?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He took her hand. Squeezed it gently. ‘Thank you for trusting me with that, Susie. I’ll keep it secret. You can trust me. I’m your friend. You know that, don’t you?’
    She nodded.
    ‘Good.’
    Impulsively she kissed his cheek. He blushed slightly. Again he squeezed her hand. A woman in the next row smiled at her. She smiled back, happy to have a friend like Uncle Andrew.
    A wet November day. Susan’s class were spending their mid-morning break indoors.
    Susan sat on a desk with Charlotte, talking to Lizzie Flynn and Arthur Hammond. Lizzie was small, dark and spirited and lived above the tiny pub her father ran. Arthur was small, blond and timid and lived in one of the grand houses in The Avenue.
    ‘I wish I didn’t have to go,’ said Arthur. He was leaving Kendleton at the end of term for the boarding school in Yorkshire that three generations of his family had attended. His elder brother, Henry, was already a pupil there.
    ‘So do I,’ said Lizzie.
    ‘If you stayed here,’ said Susan, ‘you could go to Heathcote. My mum says it’s really good.’ Heathcote Academy was a private day school on the outskirts of the town that took boys and girls from the age of eleven. Most Kendleton parents aspired to send their children there but the fees were a barrier for many.
    Arthur shook his head. ‘My father says I have to go to Yorkshire.’
    ‘Your father’s stupid, then,’ said Lizzie bluntly. ‘Henry says they beat up new boys and put their heads down toilets.’
    ‘Henry’s just trying to scare you,’ Lizzie told him. ‘He’s stupid too.’
    Susan nodded. ‘He must be. He’s friends with Edward Wetherby.’
    Lizzie laughed. Rain pounded the window. Outside the skies were black. Alice Wetherby, sitting near by, looked over. ‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded.
    ‘Mind your own business,’ replied Susan.
    ‘Yes. Go and sit in a cow pat,’ added Lizzie.
    They all laughed except Charlotte, who was quieter than usual. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Susan asked.
    ‘My mum says your mum’s going to marry Mr Bishop.’
    ‘No. He’s just our friend.’
    ‘Well, that’s what my mum says and she says that when that happens you and your mum will go and live in Queen Anne Square.’
    ‘My mum’s not marrying Mr Bishop.’
    ‘But my mum says …’
    ‘I don’t care what your mum says.’
    Alice approached with a girl called Kate, who was the only member of her gang not to have been struck down by a flu bug. ‘You’re going to have a loony as a neighbour,’ Alice told Kate, who lived in Queen Anne Square herself.
    ‘She’ll probably kill everyone,’ said Kate.
    ‘No,