Coming of Age Read Online Free Page B

chocolate ice cream in the world and sod the calories.”
    â€œWith a figure like yours, who needs to count?” Ruth vanishes inside the newsagent’s. The violin she’s propped in her bike basket makes the bike topple over. Amy laughs. It’s typical of Ruth that even her bike has a life of its own.
    She looks along the quiet village street, the familiar shops, the people – she recognises most of them – going about their business. Nothing ever changes here. Everything’s neat and tidy, in its proper place. Just the way I like it .
    She checks the coiled bun of hair at the nape of her neck. Smooth and correct. Then her bike basket. All those biology books can go back on the shelf above her desk, along with her immaculate files.
    Tonight she’ll cook a special supper for Dad: one of her chicken casseroles, with a summer pudding to follow. She has all the ingredients in her sparkling kitchen. She plans their meals every Saturday and shops at the Liphook supermarket with Dad in the afternoon.
    This evening, they’ll eat in the dining room, candles shining on the mahogany table, their serviettes in lovely silver rings. They’ll walk Tyler on the Common, talk about her work for the next few months.
    It’s six years since Mum died. It feels longer: as if she and Dad have always lived alone together, happiest in each other’s company, though delighted when Julian’s home. And when Aunt Charlotte comes to stay: at Christmas and Easter, and often at weekends. Just to keep in touch, look after Amy. Make sure that Dad’s OK.
    Amy, almost sixteen now, is going to be a doctor. Julian’s reading History of Art at Cambridge. He’s always turned up his nose at medicine. “I’m much too squeamish,” he’d say, shuddering at the thought of “all those bodies . . . You can be the worthy one, sis! Give me a painting any day. Bodies in paintings don’t cough and bleed!”
    But Amy’s longing to follow in Dad’s footsteps. And one day, if she decides to be a GP, maybe she’ll join his practice. He’ll hand over his files. “Remember Mrs Meadows? Her son has a strange new virus . . .” Oh, yes. Her inheritance. That’s what Dad’s life has been about. Caring for the village folk until it’s her turn to take over . . .
    Ruth emerges from the newsagent’s holding two huge ice creams. She hands the chocolate one to Amy, buries her face in a livid pink concoction.
    Amy laughs. “You’ve got strawberry bits all over your nose.”
    â€œSo? Part of the fun.” Ruth picks up her bike with her free hand and glances at Amy. “Coming to the club in Guildford tonight? Me and Eddie are going. Pete said he’d be there.”
    Amy savours the coolness of the ice. “Pete who?”
    â€œOh, come on, Amy! Pete Franklin. You met him on Saturday, lives in Haslemere. Says he fancies you.”
    Amy blushes, furious with herself. “Sorry. I’m cooking for Dad.”
    â€œYou can do that any night.”
    â€œNo, I can’t.” Amy bites off a neat piece of cone. “He’s usually on call. Said he’d take a night off, to celebrate the last of my exams. I’m defrosting the chicken.”
    Ruth swallows a dollop of ice cream. “Do you know what, Amy Grant? You’re becoming more than a little dull!”
    â€œToo bad!”
    â€œIt is too bad . . . Me and Eddie have been together for ages. You’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
    â€œWhat’s the rush?” Amy says vaguely.
    Ruth turns away to chat to one of her neighbours. Amy is about to join in when something catches her eye.
    Somebody familiar – very familiar – has come out of the Indian restaurant at the end of the street.
    Dad.
    But he’s not alone.
    A tall woman with smooth dark hair cut into a short bob has come out with him. She’s wearing a cream-coloured suit with a long jacket