Don't Stand So Close Read Online Free Page B

door was a mistake. She was lucky no one had rushed at her in the few moments it had been wide open.
    She was speculating, imagining, catastrophizing. The girl’s motives might not be sinister. She had to stay in control.
    ‘Where is he?’ Blue asked. ‘Dr Fisher?’
    Stella did not answer. She too could withhold information.
    ‘When is he coming home?’
    ‘Later,’ Stella said.
    Blue sighed and looked irritated. Stella got the feeling she wasn’t too good at delaying gratification.
    ‘Can I stay here with you?’ Blue asked. ‘Until he gets back?’
    Physically, she looked like a young adult, but she was childlike with her audacity and her impatience.
    ‘Not if you don’t tell me the truth about why you’ve come here and how you know him.’
    ‘But it’s dark outside. And I don’t have money to get home.’ Blue tucked her legs underneath her and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
    ‘I’m more than happy to give you money for transport,’ Stella said.
    ‘I won’t go. I’ll just sit outside the door and freeze to death.’ She pouted.
    ‘Suit yourself,’ Stella said. ‘Or maybe you could change your mind and phone your mother.’
    They sat in silence on opposite ends of the sofa, both refusing to budge. Stella wondered if she would have to sit there the whole night, watching over Blue, until Max arrived home in the morning.
    After a while, she considered that kindness might workbetter than the silent treatment. ‘Are you still cold?’ she asked. ‘I can make you something hot to drink.’
    Blue nodded. ‘Do you have any hot chocolate?’
    ‘No. Tea?’
    ‘OK.’
    Stella stood, relieved to put some distance between them as she traced the familiar path to the kitchen. The open-plan design allowed her to keep watch over the girl as she took down two mugs from the open shelves. Blue twisted around on the couch; she watched Stella as intently as Stella watched her.
    Stella lifted the kettle and filled it with water. She reached into her glossy cupboards to find teaspoons, sugar, milk. Her thoughts drifted and scattered. The white mugs were the first thing she had ever bought when they had moved into Hilltop. Max wanted to keep his flat in Hampstead fully furnished, so they had started from scratch, with nothing. She could feel her heart beating, she could taste the adrenaline surging. She kept a box of pills next to the box of tea bags, just in case. The orange light clicked off, the kettle was boiled. And even as she tasted the bitterness of the pill on her tongue, her taut muscles eased and her body responded to the promise of calm that would soon come.
    Stella walked back to the living room carrying a tray. She already felt lighter, a sensation of gently flowing or floating. Her hands were quite steady. She placed each mug on a coaster on the glass and chrome coffee table. Blue tossed off the blanket, leaned forward and heaped two teaspoons of sugar into her drink. Stella didn’t take sugar but, impulsively, she added a heaped spoonful to her tea and stirred. Droplets of scalding tea splashed on to her table. She held on to themug with both hands and felt her palms begin to burn. Blue’s hands trembled as she lifted her mug.
    ‘Well?’ Stella said. She attempted to sound kind yet authoritative. ‘Why did you come out here in the freezing cold to see my husband?’
    Blue took a sip of her tea, gazing at Stella over the rim of her mug. She took her time, placed the mug slowly back down on the coaster. ‘I think he’s my father,’ she said.
    ‘What?’ Stella was confused.
    The blue eyes were watchful. The girl took another cautious sip of her hot drink.
    Stella composed herself. ‘What makes you think he’s your father?’ she asked, calmly.
    Blue took her time, thinking about her answer. In the delay, Stella had already decided she did not believe her.
    Eventually, Blue said: ‘I found something to prove it.’
    ‘Found what, exactly?’
    ‘My birth