Apple of My Eye Read Online Free PDF Page A

was her turn to smile. ‘It’s the loveliest present I’ve ever had.’
    He pointed to the front of the card. ‘That’s our house. The one you’re going to buy.’
    ‘What house?’ demanded Auntie Vera.
    ‘Mum’s going to buy us a big house.’
    ‘And how is she going to do that?’
    ‘By saving lots of money. And when she’s bought the house my dad is going to come and live with us.’
    Auntie Vera took a sip of beer then put it back on the table, next to a bottle of expensive perfume that Uncle Stan had given her. The same perfume Mrs Brown wore. The shape of the bottle reminded Ronnie of something but he couldn’t think what.
    ‘You’re a clever boy, aren’t you, Ronnie? That’s what your report said, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes, Auntie Vera.’
    ‘Then here’s a lesson for you. Your mother’s an idiot who’s never going to buy you anything. Do yourself a favour and learn it well.’
    ‘My mum’s not an idiot.’
    ‘Then let’s write a letter to your daddy. Come on, Anna. What’s his address?’
    ‘Don’t, Vera …’ began Ronnie’s mother.
    ‘Or what? What will you do? Leave? Why don’t you? Let’s see how long you and Ronnie survive without us.’
    ‘My mum’s not an idiot!’
    Auntie Vera began to laugh. Ronnie’s mother put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Auntie Vera’s just teasing you.’
    A lump of coal fell from the fire, waking Uncle Stan.
    Thomas looked up from his comic book. ‘You snore like a hog, Dad.’ Uncle Stan shrugged, then returned to sleep. Auntie Vera drank more beer. As he watched her, Ronnie realized that the perfume resembled a potion bottle he had seen in a book at school. A wicked witch had given the potion to a beautiful woman, who thought it would keep her young for ever. Instead it had turned to fire inside her stomach and burned her to ash.
    He imagined Auntie Vera drinking from the perfume bottle by mistake. Just one sip. Then a scream as she clawed at her throat.
    Auntie Vera was still laughing. He began to do the same. A look of confusion came into his mother’s face. ‘Hush, Ronnie,’ she said quickly.
    Biting his lip, he smothered the sound.
    January 1952.
    Anna sat on Ronnie’s bed, listening to him read from a library book about a little girl whose magic ring gave her seven wishes. She had worried that it might be too difficult for him but he was managing it effortlessly. The previous evening he had been totally absorbed in the story but now he seemed distracted.
    ‘What is it, Ronnie?’
    ‘When is Dad coming?’
    She felt a dull ache. The residue of a pain that had once been intolerable. ‘I told you, darling, he may not come. You mustn’t expect him.’
    ‘I want him to come.’
    ‘I know you do but we don’t know where he is. He might be in heaven.’
    The little jaw was set. ‘He’s not in heaven. He’s going to come and help me.’
    ‘Help you what?’
    ‘Look after you.’
    Outside it was raining. A stormy winter’s night. Though the room was cold his words were like a gust of warm air. She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek. ‘You don’t need any help, Ronnie. You do a perfect job on your own. Now let’s finish the story. Jemima’s only got one wish left. What would you wish for if you were her?’
    ‘That Auntie Vera was in heaven.’
    She released his hand. ‘Ronnie, that’s a wicked thing to say!’
    He stared down at the page while water pounded the window.
    ‘You mustn’t say things like that. Not ever. I know Auntie Vera gets angry sometimes but that’s just her way. She and Uncle Stan have been good to us. They’ve given us a home.’
    Silence. His pyjamas were striped and too big for him. Handed down from Peter, as so many of his clothes were. A train raced past in the darkness. Even though the window was closed the sound still filled the room.
    ‘Ronnie?’
    He looked up. ‘We’ll have our own house soon. You’re going to buy it. Then it won’t matter if Auntie Vera’s in heaven.’
    Troubled,