Vintage Read Online Free Page A

door. Nothing in it.
    She clumped up to the front door and rang the bell, before she could think about it too much. No answer. She stuck her hands in the jacket pockets, and found two keys on a key ring. Her hand shaking, she tried one in the lock, and let herself in. Halfway through the door, she realised she was holding her breath.
    The breath came out as a cough, and she froze. Nothing happened. She could hear some kind of machine sound in the distance, but there was nobody in the house. The table opposite the front door, with the phone on it, had gone. She took off the huge shoes and left them in the hall, looking like stranded boats. Then she climbed the stairs.
    There was a mirror on the landing. Marilyn couldn’t believe what she saw. She knew about the clothes. But now she saw the face. It was covered in pale makeup. The eyes had black shiny eyeliner all round them, and mascara so thick the eyelashes came in clumps. The mouth was a deep red.
    Then the hair. It looked like someone had gone at it with the kitchen scissors. Even she knew better than that.
    Slowly she brought her hand up to touch the hair and the cheek. And watched a hand do the same in the mirror. There was a glint above her eyebrow. She smoothed her hand along it, and found a thin silver ring pierced into the skin. She pulled it, but it didn’t hurt. She shivered. She knew girls who had their ears pierced. Her mother clicked her tongue and muttered something about being ‘fast’ when she saw them. But she’d never seen anyone with an eyebrow pierced. She didn’t even know it could be done.
    She stretched out her hand and touched the mirror. It was there, cold, real. Her fingers left a slight white mark.
    She put out her tongue, and the girl in the mirror did too. She stretched her tongue out to touch the tip of her nose, something she liked to do on her own in her room. But this tongue didn’t reach. And then she realised she could see. No glasses, and she could see.
    She smiled and the girl smiled. She laughed and the girl laughed, her hair flopping down in front of her right eye. She twisted her body and put her hand over her head, like the models in her mother’s magazines. She could see one side of her neck in the mirror. There was a drawing on it – a drawing of a tiny butterfly. Marilyn thought it must be a transfer. She’d put them on her hand when she was about ten. She rubbed her neck. Rubbed it harder. Nothing came off.
    It couldn’t be a tattoo. Only sailors had tattoos.
    She smiled at the mirror.
    She looked good. She looked great – strange, but great.
    Marilyn heard a key in the front door, and ran for her bedroom. As she shut the door, she saw there was a bolt on the inside. She slid it closed, then collapsed on the bed, her heart thudding with excitement.

There are steps on the stairs. The woman from the kitchen walks right into my room. Without knocking or anything. I could have been naked. Or asleep. I’ve only just recovered from the little kid.
    She takes me in. And the library books all over the bed.
    â€œI was coming up to see how you were feeling, but you’re obviously well enough to read that trash.”
    I’m not surprised Marilyn can’t wait to move out. My mum would never talk to me like this. Wouldn’t dare. I’d ring Childline. And she knows it. She practically is Childline. She would be so ashamed if I phoned them. That is a totally excellent threat. Must try it out.
    If I ever see her again.
    This mum’s got her hands on her hips, and she’s standing there looking at me. Frowning. With the thin eyebrows and the thin lips, it’s like looking at a cartoon, all drawn with straight lines.
    â€œWhat have you got to say for yourself?”
    Not much. Nothing. What can I say? Calculate the distance to the door. She takes a step forward. Blocks my exit.
    â€œI’ve been scrubbing the kitchen floor and cooking since this