Past Secrets Read Online Free

out over her hips
    unlike
    the institutional grey school uniform skirt that jutted out in an unflattering A-line. Amber was holding a mobile phone to her ear and Christie
    could just overhear.
    ‘I’m just leaving now. Has anyone noticed I’m not there? MacVitie’s not got her knickers in a twist over the absence of her best student?’
    Mrs MacVitie was the maths teacher and
    Christie doubted that Amber, who was typically
    left-brained and hopeless at maths, was her best
    student. Favourite, perhaps, because it was hard
    to resist Amber, who always paid attention in class
    and was a polite, diligent student. But not best.
    She must be speaking to Ella O’Brien, to whom
    she was joined at the hip, and Ella obviously told
    her that no, the St Ursula’s bloodhounds had not
    been alerted.
    ‘Sweet. If anyone asks, you think I was sick
    yesterday and it must have got worse. I phoned
     
    in earlier and told the school secretary I was sick
    but, just in case, you back me up and say I’m
    puking like mad. It’s true,’ Amber laughed. ‘I’m
    sick of school, right?’
    Christie wondered if Faye, Amber’s mother,
    knew what her daughter was up to.
    Faye Reid was a widow, a quiet, businesslike
    figure who’d never missed a school meeting and
    was utterly involved in her daughter’s life. Even
    though they lived on the same street, Christie didn’t
    see much of Faye. She kept herself to herself, head
    down, rushing everywhere, clad in conservative
    navy suits and low-heeled shoes, with a briefcase
    by her side. There was such a contrast between
    the, butterfly beauty of Amber who had the best
    of everything and caught people’s eyes, and her
    mother, who always appeared to be rushing to or
    from work, trying hard to keep the mortgage paid
    and food on the table. A person didn’t need
    Christie’s gift of intuition to see that Faye’s life
    had been one of sacrifices.
    ‘She’s one of the most gifted students I’ve ever
    taught,’ Christie had told Faye two years before, shortly after Amber arrived in her class. ‘Any art college in the world would love to have her.’
    And Faye’s face had lit up. Christie had never
    seen a smile transform a person so much. Faye
    was defiantly plain beside her daughter, overweight
    to Amber’s curved sexiness and with her brown
    hair pulled severely back into a knot that only
    someone with the bones of a supermodel could
    get away with. Faye Reid didn’t have the supermodel
    bones. But when she smiled that rare smile,
    she suddenly had all the charm of her daughter
    and Christie caught herself wondering why a
    woman like Faye, who could only be forty, lived
    such a quiet life. No man had ever been seen kissing
    Faye a wistful goodbye on the doorstep. Her
    clothes, the discreet earrings and low shoes that
    screamed comfort they
    were like armour. It was
    as if Faye had deliberately turned her back on
    youthful sexiness and hidden behind a facade of
    plain clothes.
    Christie wondered if she could see more … but
    suddenly, it was as if Faye Reid had abruptly closed
    herself off and Christie could see nothing but the
    woman in front of her.
    ‘Thanks, Mrs Devlin,’ Faye said. ‘That’s what
    I think too, but I love her so much, I thought I
    was totally biased. Every parent thinks their kid
    is Mozart or Picasso, don’t they?’
    ‘Not all,’ replied Christie grimly, thinking of
    some of the parents she’d met over the years with
    no belief in their kids whatsoever.
    Her comment apparently touched a chord with
    Faye and the smile vanished to be replaced by her
    more usual, sombre expression. ‘Yeah, you’re
    right,’ she said, nodding. ‘There are always a few
    who don’t appreciate their kids. Nothing that
    twenty years of psychotherapy wouldn’t cure.’
    Up ahead, Amber said a cheery ‘byee’ into her
    phone. Christie knew that the correct teacher
     
    response at this point would be to catch up with
    her and ask what she was doing out of school.
    But suddenly