After Ariel: It started as a game Read Online Free Page A

but don’t worry, I’m too old for him. He only likes teenagers.’
    ‘Oh dear, one of those is he?’Alex chimed in. The expression on his face said he was not sure whether to be relieved that I am too old or disgusted because the man in question likes younger women.
    ‘He’s not a dirty old man; he’s a dirty young one! He’s only the same age as me.’
    ‘Have you spoken to your mother lately?’ Fiona changed the subject. Something in her voice alerted me to a hidden agenda. ‘Er...no, not for a week or so. Why?’I knew mum was about to undergo an operation for cancer.
    ‘Well, you should because I think she’s sicker than she’s letting on. It’s not what she said, more what she didn’t say. I know my sister and when she’s covering something up.’
     ‘We know she’s having the op on Monday, but could it be worse than she’s saying? Or is something wrong with John?’ My mother married a widowed, retired Senior Constable only six months previously and had never been happier.
    ‘I don’t know, but the sooner you get home to her the better, dear. Are you two coming back here for tea, Goldie?’
    My cousin glanced at me. ‘Want to come back for tea or shall we go to the pub?’
    I let the idea run through my mind. Knowing Goldie’s capacity to hold liquor, I decided discretion was the better part of valour. ‘Thanks for the invite, Fiona, but I need to get up early and I’m rather tired.’ I turned to Goldie. ‘Perhaps we could get a takeaway and knock off a bottle of ‘Red Ned’ at your place?’
    She lived a few streets away from her parents in a refurbished workman’s cottage. I would be staying for a couple of nights until my own unit became vacant on Saturday morning.
    *
    Goldie’s 1930s cottage was more of a two-storeyed home, painted a pale lemon, topped by a dark grey roof and with leadlight windows, behind a small lawn surrounded by tall shrubs. Because she is gone for months at a time, she prefers to keep her garden simple, knowing that her parents will be looking after it. She opened the glossy dark grey front door, stepped over the threshold and hurled her keys into a wide, shallow pottery dish on a side table. The natural light of a summer evening showed that nothing had changed since my last visit. 
    Goldie’s decor revealed her penchant for all things big and garish – like herself, but in a comfortable way. The snug lounge room was, as always, strewn with newspapers and books, her small piano stood in the corner near the window next to a desk on which her laptop sat open, surrounded by papers and piles of what appeared to be photographs. A few crudely carved souvenirs of donkeys and camels decorate the tops of bookshelves. Of her numerous awards, there was no sign. Family photos adorn the walls and the top of a dresser. On the wall above the fireplace is a stunning portrait of Parry Reynolds.
    He was large enough to make my cousin appear petite, and I knew him to have been beautiful outside and within. My heart ached for her, as I tore my gaze away from his twinkling dark eyes and smiling, perfect mouth. Their love for each other was supposed to keep them safe. Goldie’s gaze travelled to Parry’s photo then swung back to me. ‘I’ll never find what Parry and I gave each other, Pammie. Sometimes I wish I could just lift that slab and melt down into the coffin with him.’ Great tears tumbled down her cheeks, falling to her shirt front. 
    The old adage ‘Time heals all wounds’ flitted through my mind, but for once, I managed to keep my big fat mouth shut. ‘There’s nothing I can say to lighten the load, Goldie, but I’m always here to listen and give you a hug when you need it.’
    Our hands entwined. We stayed motionless for a moment or two, before she pulled gently away. ‘Come on, let’s get you settled.’
    We lugged my backpack and case up the narrow winding stairs to the guest room. Nothing had changed in the year or so since I last stayed there – the