Abandoned Read Online Free PDF

up at her as it grew longer and longer, spreading across her face until she was laughing and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Suddenly she found the energy to get up, ruffling my hair as she passed into the kitchen, saying I was a great girl, and that nobody was taking me away from her, and I could have all the custard creams ‘quick, before the others come in’.
    I bit into one, stuffing the rest into the front pockets of my dress, glad that nobody else was here, just me and Mummy and the whole place warm and quiet, all to ourselves, with the gas fire on and the clock ticking quietly up on the wall and everything put away, and the smell of polish everywhere. When I looked up at Mummy I could see that the tears had rinsed all the pain from her eyes, and when she smiled back at me, her blue eyes shining into mine, the smile spread all through me. Custard creams were the best taste in the world after that.

Chapter 7
    T he man my uncle thought was most likely to be my father, and who I secretly wished was, was also the type of man he despised: an Irishman who was the opposite in almost every way to him. He was a colleague of Kathy’s, someone who frequently came over from Ireland on business to meet clients and so could visit us more often than her. He never stayed with us when he came over, as Kathy always did. Instead he would stay in ‘posh’ hotels and visit us in black taxis or shiny rented cars, usually while my uncle was at work. Just the mention of his name sent my uncle into a rage.
    We came to know him as our rich, kind Uncle Brendan, who never hit anyone or raised his voice and who always smiled and tried to get me to talk. He was the only man any of us ever knew, except for our headmaster, who wore a shirt and tie and shoes you could see your face in, every day of the week, not just to dress up to go to the pub in on a Saturday night. He was definitely the only man, Irish or otherwise, any of us knew who didn’t drink.
    He always singled me out for special attention because he was Kathy’s friend and the only person in Ireland who knew about my existence. My brothers and sisters were bemused after my uncle’s treatment of me as to why anyone should pay me any attention at all. By coming to visit us, he was ‘doing Kathy a favour’, Mummy said. But my uncle didn’t want any ‘favours’ from anyone, especially him.
    Without the others knowing, I would be put into taxis to visit him at one of the big hotels in central London where he met his clients. I would tap hesitantly in new shoes across the vast marble lobbies, past displays of flowers almost as big as myself fanned out on antique tables, and into quiet hotel restaurants filled with gilt mirrors, silver candelabra and stiff, white tablecloths. It was all a world away from where we lived in the flats.
    Brendan seemed fascinated by my shyness. It seemed to put him at his ease too, and when we were alone together he went out of his way to try to put me at mine. He always seemed more relaxed when there were no grown-ups about. He talked more and seemed to relish the opportunity to come down to a child’s level. He drank glasses of Coca-Cola through straws in glasses clinking with ice and, declining the heavy, leather menus, would order cheeseburgers and knickerbocker glories, or steaks full of blood and plates piled high with profiteroles. I blushed at the smiling waiters and at Brendan’s questions about things at home, and tried not to wonder how Mummy and I would pay for this when my uncle found out where I’d been all day. But especially with who.
    Sometimes I would stay a night or two with him at whichever hotel he was staying at. I always got picked on for this by my brothers and sisters when I got back, and wished Brendan would treat us all the same, but he never did. When he visited the flats he’d take me to Mass at the local Catholic church with him too. Although all of us had been christened, we never went to church, so it was a novelty