A MILLION ANGELS Read Online Free Page A

when my dad finally left,” she smiles. She opens her arms wide and takes a deep breath. “It’s going to be bliss. I can’t actually believe we have six whole months without him shouting and bossing us around.”
    She rummages through a pile of old clothes. She pulls out her purse and pays for a pair of shiny black high heels that are two sizes too big. She holds up a pink dress covered in gold sequins.
    â€œWhat d’you think?”
    â€œMmmm,” I say. “It would match your jacket but…”
    â€œI don’t even know why I bother asking your opinion,” she huffs, holding it up for size. “It’s not as if you’re Miss Fashionista, is it, Jemima? That enormous Minnie Mouse bow in your hair and those big black boots aren’t exactly a major fashion statement, you know! And as for the rainbow nail varnish! Whatever crazy thing are you going to buy today? A granny jacket? Another big bow?”
    â€œI’m looking for something,” I say, “but I’m not sure what. I’ll know when I see it.”
    She throws the dress down and we drift on to the next stall.
    â€œDon’t you miss your dad at all when he’s away?” I ask.
    â€œNot At All!” she says. “It’s our little secret, but Mum and me prefer it when he’s away. We get up to mischief. Last time we went on this amazing spa day pamperthing and we had a massage and our nails done and we lounged around in the Jacuzzi for hours. Then we went for dinner at this gorgeous restaurant. My dad hates restaurants and mealtimes are horrible when he’s around. He makes me sit up straight and hold my knife properly and boring stuff like that. I love it when it’s just Mum and me and I get all her attention. This time we’re planning a mini-break to a really lovely hotel in Paris so we can shop, shop, shop. My dad’s not Mr Perfect like your dad, is he? My dad’s always really moody and bossy and he shouts all the time. I feel sorry for the soldiers he’s in charge of. Rather them than me.”
    â€œI can’t stop thinking about mine,” I say. “It’s like I have this little bubble of worry following me around. I worked out exactly how long they’re going to be away for. Six months equals twenty-six weeks. That means one hundred and eighty-two days, or four thousand, three hundred and eighty hours, or two hundred and sixty-two thousand, eight hundred minutes, or fifteen million, seventy-seven hundred and thirty-eight thousand and four hundred seconds. That’s ages. It’s too long.”
    â€œNot long enough for me,” she says. “I can’t believe you bothered to work all that out. Even worse, youbothered to remember it. You’re nuts, Jemima. You need to learn to switch off and think about nice things. Like me and Mum do.” She giggles. “Plan something special.”
    â€œHow can you think of nice things,” I say, “when you know your dad might get killed?”
    â€œWell, soldiers do get killed,” she says, “like I said last night, it’s a fact. But worrying won’t help. It’s not as if there’s anything you can do to stop it. Anyway,” she says with a smug little smile, “nothing’ll kill my dad. Mum and I think he’s so stubborn he’d even survive a nuclear war!”
    â€œYou can’t say that,” I snap. “You can’t be that sure. And he definitely wouldn’t survive a nuclear attack, Jess, that’s just stupid. No one would survive that.”
    Something sparkly catches her eye and she skips along to a stall full of junk. While I wait for her to coo at dusty old ornaments of leaping dolphins and sad-looking bears my eye fixes on a stall. It has green camouflage and combat gear all piled up high. And there’s a helmet snuggled like a baby on the top.
    â€œI’ll be back in a bit,” I say. I push through the