Eva's Journey Read Online Free Page B

Dad’s business closed down completely.
    When he came home and told me, I wasn’t even surprised.
    Nothing could surprise me any more.
    I hugged him. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you’ll find another job soon.’
    He nodded. ‘I’m sure I will,’ he said.
    I wondered why we were bothering to tell lies, since we were both so bad at it.

    Our house was sold very quickly. That’s the way the new owners wanted it, and Mum and Dad didn’t argue. I knew how they felt. How can you enjoy something when you’re just sitting there, waiting for it to be taken away from you forever?

    I’m not going to say much about the day we moved out – not because I don’t want to, but because it’s all a bit of a blur.
    I can remember lots of packing cases and lots of tears.
    I can remember Dad telling me to grow up, which so wasn’t fair, as he’s always saying that I’m still his baby girl.
    I can remember the slam of the front door, aswe left for the last time.
    I can remember Mum, Dad and me piling into Mum’s small red car.
    I can remember the crunch of the car tyres on the gravel.
    I can remember turning back for a last look at the name-plaque on the gate post – Castleville House.
    I can remember the dull clang of the electric gates as they closed behind us for the very last time.
    I can remember the short, silent car journey.
    I can remember pulling up outside the small, ugly house we had rented.
    I can remember thinking that my life was over.

Chapter Five
    S oon it was my last day in The Abbey. My form teacher, Mrs Reynolds, was really nice. She shook my hand as I walked out after my last class.
    â€˜You’re a bright girl, Eva,’ she said. ‘You’ll do well wherever you go.’
    â€˜But I don’t want to go anywhere’
I felt like crying.
‘I just want to stay here.’
    But that would have been too weird, so I just gave Mrs Reynolds’ hand one last shake, and went outside to catch my bus.
    Most of my friends were in the school yard. We all hugged and kissed and cried.
    They all called after me as I climbed on to the school bus for the very last time.
    â€˜We’ll still be friends.’
    â€˜Let’s keep in touch.’
    â€˜We’ll never forget you.’
    Most of them did remember me – for the first few days anyway. But they all lived too far away to be proper friends. Even though their fathers’ cars hadn’t been towed away by evil tow-truck men, they didn’t seem to be able to travel the few miles to visit me during the holidays.
    Some of the girls texted me – for the first few days anyway. But I had no credit on my phone, so I couldn’t reply – and soon the texts stopped coming.
    I didn’t take it personally.
    But that didn’t stop it hurting.

    The days in the dump that I was supposed to call my new home seemed to go by very slowly. I wandered around the small rooms feeling cross and miserable.
    â€˜Go upstairs and unpack some of your boxes,’ said Mum one morning. ‘You’re driving me crazywith your moaning.’
    I thought about arguing, but felt sorry when I saw Mum’s tired face. This whole thing couldn’t have been much fun for her either. So I gave her a quick hug, and then I went upstairs and looked at the boxes stacked in the narrow hallway outside my bedroom.
    I tried, I really did. But how can the contents of three wardrobes, two chests of drawers and seven bookshelves, fit into one very small, very narrow cupboard? It was like trying to fit a rugby team into a Mini Cooper – totally impossible.
    Dad came in when he heard me crying. He looked at the cupboard that was already stuffed to bursting point, even though I’d only unpacked the first two boxes.
    â€˜You’ll get used to it,’ he said. ‘My two brothers and I had to share a wardrobe about that size.’
    â€˜But that was so