The Playground Read Online Free Page B

moved.’
    This annoyed her, as I knew it would. She wanted to see me sorted. She liked things to be black and white. ‘For heaven’s sake! It’s a bit late for second thoughts now.’
    I crumpled. She moved her chair closer to mine, put her arm around my shoulder and said more softly, ‘Please don’t get upset.’
    This only encouraged tears. ‘I honestly, honestly think you’ve done the right thing. Honestly, love. You could never have afforded that big house on your own. I’m sure you’ll make friends here – what are the people like downstairs?’
    â€˜Don’t know, haven’t met them yet.’
    â€˜Why don’t you pop down? Introduce yourself. You might find you have all sorts of things in common.’ She rubbed her hands together at the prospect of this burgeoning friendship.
    â€˜OK, I will. Later.’
    â€˜Good girl. And I do think it would be very sensible to get a lodger.’ My sister, Bella, had come up with this suggestion. ‘Though be sure to tell your landlord first.’
    â€˜Maybe. But I’m just not like you, Mum. I’m not as social or as tolerant. And, anyway, I’ve sort of gone off the idea. I don’t know. I’m worried about Addie. First Joe, now this. And then a complete stranger moving in. It’s too much change for her.’
    Mum held me. How often had she held me like this over the years? Rocking me as I shed snotty, mascara-stained, bitten-nail tears about having no friends, or no boyfriends or failing exams or being broke or fat.
    â€˜Addie is doing wonderfully. You mustn’t worry about her so much. She’ll be fine. Honestly,’ she said, stroking my hair and kissing me on the ear.
    â€˜But how will he know how to contact Addie?’
    â€˜You told that neighbour of yours, didn’t you? Annette, Andrea—’
    â€˜Anna.’ She always got this wrong. She seemed to have refused to memorise her name purely because she wasn’t keen on her, always found her a little aloof.
    â€˜You gave Anna your forwarding address, didn’t you? If he wants to find you, he will.’
    â€˜He didn’t even like Anna and he’s not that resourceful – I need to think of something else.’
    â€˜He’s an adult, for Pete’s sake. It’s jolly well up to him.’ And tenderagain, ‘You’ll be OK, sweetheart. I promise.’ This was the rhythm of our relationship.
    *
    She had gone from saying ‘Joe is marvellous, and really quite charming when you get to know him,’ to her friends to ‘He just abandoned them. I can’t understand how he could walk out on his family like that.’ She felt personally abandoned too because they had been quite close – Joe would often do little jobs for her, cut the grass, hang paintings in her home. She thought he was just in ‘poor form’ when he left, suggested that I give him some space.
    â€˜You’ll just have to accept that he’s not coming back,’ she said, stroking my arm as she delivered the blow. She’d become blunter as she’d got older.
    â€˜I
have
accepted he’s not coming back. It’s just—’
    â€˜Who’s not coming back?’ Addie said, eying me with concern.
    â€˜Me, if you don’t get your clothes on this minute!’ Mum was up, animated, taking her grandchild by the hand. ‘Now, I want to see your new room!’
    â€˜Go on, show Granny your special magic curtains.’
    â€˜Come on, Granny! And do you know what …’ I heard her voice trail away, then her little footsteps charging back.
    She gave me a toothy smile – the forced sort she uses when having her photo taken – handed me her sucky blanket for comfort, hugged my leg, kissed my knee.
    â€˜Be happy, Mama.’
    *
    â€˜Omnia transeunt.’
    They were back from their tour of Addie’s room.
    â€˜I’m