Playlist for a Broken Heart Read Online Free Page B

Playlist for a Broken Heart
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speed with which my life had
changed. In the last few weeks in London, even though the house was being packed up, it felt unreal. Now we’d done the drive and were sitting in Aunt Karen’s house, our suitcases in the
hall, there was no more denying the reality and I felt overwhelmingly sad about the loss of life as I’d known it.
    Finally Aunt Karen took notice of the awkward silence. ‘Tasmin, can you show Paige where she’s going to be sleeping,’ she instructed.
    ‘Umpf,’ said Tasmin. Or some word like that. She got up and with a jerk of her chin indicated that I should follow her upstairs.
    ‘Shall I bring my bag?’ I asked.
    ‘Well I’m not carrying it up for you,’ said Tasmin. ‘I’m not a servant.’
    ‘Tasmin,’ said Aunt Karen. ‘Don’t be rude.’
    Tasmin looked pleadingly at her mum then back at me. ‘Well there’s nowhere for you to put stuff but you can bring it up, I guess.’
    ‘Tasmin, I told you to clear some space in the wardrobe and a couple of drawers,’ said Aunt Karen.
    ‘I tried, but where I am I supposed to put
my
things?’ asked Tasmin. ‘We’re short of space as it is in this house.’
    Aunt Karen glared at her but she shrugged and went up the stairs that led off the sitting room. I got my case from the narrow hallway then followed her up. I got the message loud and clear. She
was no happier with the new arrangements than I was.
    On the first-floor landing, she pushed open a bedroom door. It had a sign on it in black letters. KEEP OUT ON PAIN OF DEATH. PRIVATE. Underneath was a skull-and-bones image. I went in after her.
It was a small boxroom, painted pink, with a chest of drawers, wardrobe and full-length mirror which was surrounded by pages showing fashion shoots that had been cut out from magazines and
Blu-Tacked to the wall. It smelt sweet and girlie – of strawberries and hairspray. There were clothes everywhere, on hangers behind the door, piled over the end of Tasmin’s bed, strewn
on a chair behind the door. I saw that a campbed had been made up for me on the right of the room opposite hers on the left.
    ‘Home sweet home,’ said Tasmin. ‘Your five-star luxury accommodation.’
    ‘Look. I’m really sorry about this,’ I said. ‘It’s only for a while. We’ll be gone as soon as Dad sorts something.’
    Tasmin raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah right,’ she said. ‘We’ll see. But as long as you’re here, there are some ground rules.’ She pointed to her bed then mine.
‘My side, your side. There’s room on a couple of hangers in the wardrobe but I suggest you keep most of your stuff in your case. And I don’t want you borrowing anything of mine,
OK?’
    As if
, I thought and nodded, then slung my bag on my bed.
    Tasmin didn’t hang around. She changed her trainers and five minutes later I heard the front door slam. I looked out the window to see her tottering out the gate and along the road. She
didn’t look comfortable in the strappy high-heels she’d put on. I thought about calling Allegra, but to say what? ‘I’ve landed in Loserville, get me out of here.’ I
didn’t want her feeling sorry for me. I decided to wait until things were more settled, if ever.
    While the others were downstairs, I decided to have a look around the top floors. Although we’d visited Aunt Karen a few times when I was younger, they moved to this house only last year
so I wasn’t familiar with the layout.
    There were four bedrooms. Aunt Karen’s and Uncle Mike’s had a double bed but, like Tasmin’s, there was stuff on every surface and a keyboard, guitar and amp in the corner of
the room. The instruments must belong to Uncle Mike. He worked as a music teacher and used to be in a band when he was younger.
    The third tiny bedroom, which had clearly been used as a study, was the tidiest of the rooms so far and had a futon on the floor, which I presumed was for Mum and Dad. There was no room on
either side for even a chest of drawers, so God knows where
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