A House Without Mirrors Read Online Free

as she started to colour her eyelashes with small, firm strokes of the brush. “It must run in the family.”
    â€œBut my mum doesn’t belong to this family,” I said.
    Wilma looked up, really surprised.
    â€œShe doesn’t?”
    â€œNo,” I said, shaking my head. “Mum’s not related to anyone here apart from me.”
    Wilma was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed.
    â€œNo, that’s right,” she said. “It’s Thomas and my mum who are related to Henrietta. Jesus, I can never keep all that stuff in my head. She is sort of their aunt, isn’t she?”
    â€œGreat-aunt,” I said. “Henrietta was the younger sister of
my
great-grandfather on my dad’s side, who was
your
great-grandfather on your mum’s side, and—”
    â€œOkay, okay, okay!” Wilma said, waving a pink lipstick wildly in the air. “So she’s the great-aunt-granny-aunt to my great-grandmother’s second cousin’s cousin. That’s what I said all along!”
    I laughed. “Okay.”
    â€œThat’s it,” Wilma said, throwing away the tissue that she’d wiped her lipstick on. “Does this look all right for tomorrow?”
    â€œLovely,” I said. “You look a lot older, kind of.”
    Wilma turned her head and looked at her reflection in her pocket mirror. She didn’t seem to like what she saw.
    â€œBut do I look cuter?”
    I shouldn’t have hesitated, of course, but I did. For maybe only a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
    â€œSure, absolutely. But you also look lovely just the way you are.”
    Wilma looked serious, almost impassive. But without warning a tear welled out of her right eye, the weak one.
    â€œThanks,” she said in a completely normal voice with the tear rolling down her cheek, leaving a grey snail trail of make-up in its wake. “But you don’t have to lie, Tommy. I know that I’m fat and ugly.”
    â€œBut you are not ugly! You are…”
    I went completely cold when her round face screwed up in tears, like a clown’s mask. Wilma’s weeping could be so forceful that it scared me. Like watching an accident happen. Her shoulders started shaking, but there was no sound. I wanted to soothe her, say something that would help, but there was nothing I could say.
    â€œWhy?” she sobbed. “Why didn’t I turn out pretty? Like Mum.”
    My own eyes grew dim and my nose pricked. I still didn’t know what to say, but I leant forward and held Wilma while she cried. Her large, warm body shook in my skinny arms and I pushed my mouth into the soft curls at her ear.
    â€œI don’t know, Wilma,” I whispered. “I don’t know.”

If only they knew.

Chapter Five
A P RAYER
    I only started to cry when I was by myself again. That’s how it always happened.
    I lay there in my bed in Henrietta’s house, and felt wave upon wave of weeping washing through me. The waves began like a tickling in the stomach, and they continued in a rolling cramp that pressed the air out of my lungs and up through my throat. There was nothing I could do to hold back the tears, but I could at least stay quiet. I was always able to do that.
    I think I inherited my silent crying from Dad. On quite a few occasions I walked into Henrietta’s room and saw him sitting with his face buried in the duvet and her hand in his. There was no sound, but you could tell from his back that he was crying. I always went before he saw me.
    When the tears finally dried up I was no longersleepy. The house was quiet all around me, so the others had probably gone to bed. I wrapped the duvet like a mantle round my shoulders, got up and walked to the window.
    It was a clear night, with a full moon and lots of stars in the sky. A man with a dog was passing by, and he stopped by the garden gate. Both the dog and the man lifted their heads towards the house with the dark windows. I often