Flightsend Read Online Free Page B

in town and moved out –
Charlie wasn't sure she could ever forgive her mother
for that – and the For Sale notice went up outside the
house. Kathy devoted herself to gardening: digging,
replanting, taking cuttings, tending her seedlings.
Charlie couldn't see the point of all this garden
improvement if the house was to be sold, but if
gardening kept her mother sane, then gardening was
what she'd better do.
    They were on their own now, Charlie and Mum, and
that was the way it was.
    'Charlie!' her mother yelled up the stairs. 'What are
you doing up there?'
    'Just getting ready,' Charlie called back.
    She tweaked at the black skirt that was a little
too tight, and thrust on her shoes; then frowned at
herself in the mirror, and clomped downstairs.
    'Here's your coat,' her mother said. 'And take your
scarf – it'll be cold later.'
    She was finishing her meal, and Caspar was gulping
casserole and mashed potato from a plate on the floor.
Charlie giggled. 'I thought you said dog food? He'll be
expecting this every day.'
    'Just for now. He looked so hungry. Look, about this
job.'
    Charlie looked at her warily, thinking of the little
girl at Nightingales, and Kathy's stricken face.
    'Check what they're paying you, won't you? I mean,
that woman Fay seemed nice, but you need to sort
these things out. And about the hours. Don't take on
too much, with your exams coming up.'
    'OK.'
    'And – I think it's a really good opportunity for you.
Living in a small place like this – well, there isn't a lot
to choose from. You'll meet people there. It might be
fun.'
    'As long as I don't pour soup into someone's lap. Or
serve gravy instead of coffee.'
    Kathy gave a tight smile. Once, confusing two jugs,
Charlie had served gravy with cream and after-dinner
mints to Mum, Sean and Anne. She could still
remember Sean's incredulous expression when he was
the first to taste it. For weeks afterwards he'd teased
Charlie, asking for espresso gravy or one of her Bisto
cappuccino specials. But incidents involving Sean
weren't supposed to be mentioned now.
    'Bye, Mum. See you later.'
    Charlie pulled on her coat and scarf and let herself
out of the back door. She thought: Well, I've got a
dog and a job in one evening, and Mum doesn't mind
– things are starting to improve. The three lots of
homework in her school bag would have to wait.

Part Two

Frühlingsmorgen
    Charlie watched the hand of the clock scything away
the last sixty seconds of the Maths exam. Mrs
Stapleton, the new Head of History, had been standing
like a waxwork for the last hour; abruptly coming
to life, she strode to the front of the hall.
    If Charlie's mother hadn't left, she'd have been the
one supervising the exam. This off-putting idea made
Charlie glad that it was no longer a possibility. At
school, her mother had been Ms Steer, known to the
pupils, inevitably, as Ms Steerious. She'd always made
sure that Charlie was in someone else's History class,
but nonetheless Charlie had had to get used to people
making rude or disrespectful remarks about Mum in
her hearing; also to the assumption (false) that her
mother helped with her History homework. There
were certain penalties that came with having a teacher
for a parent.
    One of the other History teachers, Anne Gladwin,
was Mum's best friend, and that was odd enough.
Charlie knew Anne both in her jeans-and-trainers,
dog-walking, off-duty guise and in her teacherly role.
Anne was on exam duty too; once, looking up from
her paper, Charlie had caught her eye and they'd
exchanged sympathetic smiles. Invigilating was what
teachers hated most, Mum had told her: having to
stand there doing absolutely nothing, when they had
stacks of work waiting.
    'Put down your pens. The exam is now finished.'
Mrs Stapleton's voice rang out into the cavernous
silence of the hall. 'Check that you've filled in correct
details on the front of your script.'
    Charlie directed a surreptitious grin at Rowan,
across the aisle. That hadn't been too bad. One more
done –