Coming of Age Read Online Free PDF Page B

taken a single bite. Her hair hangs loose on her shoulders, thick, curling, dark red. Amy’s inheritance.
    â€œI don’t know what to do.”
    Mum stares down at her, the half-smile lifting her mouth, lighting her extraordinary pale grey-green eyes.
    The silence in the room intensifies.
    â€œTalk to me,” Amy says. “If you were me, Mum, what would you do?”

Four
    Half an hour later Amy heard Dad’s car draw up. She ran downstairs and opened the door.
    Dad heaved something bulky from the boot.
    She stared. “What on earth is that?”
    â€œAn exercise bike.” Dad grinned. “They were on special offer at that new supermarket.” He slammed the boot, his face red with exertion. “Hold the door open for me, Amy . . . Tyler, please stop snapping at my heels.”
    Dad staggered across the path and through the front door. He plonked the bike in the hall. Tyler skidded around it, growling.
    â€œWhere are you going to put it?”
    â€œI thought I’d turn the garage into a gym.”
    â€œA what ?”
    â€œI don’t get enough exercise. Couple of walks a week with Tyler doesn’t count, and I’ve been piling on the pounds.”
    â€œ I haven’t noticed.”
    Dad laughed. “Your wonderful cooking doesn’t help. Not that I’m complaining.” He pulled affectionately at a long strand of her hair. “You look after me better than I deserve. But as you get older, it gets harder to burn those calories.” He shifted his waistband. “These trousers feel tighter by the minute. So I thought, William, my boy, it’s action stations.”
    Amy looked at Dad’s flushed face and untidy hair; at his eyes, sparkling with excitement. For a moment she saw him at sixteen, taking a girl on his first date . . . falling in love with Mum.
    She said, “The garage is a total mess. Shall I help you clear it?”
    â€œThat’d be great. Here, let me unwrap the bike.”
    He tore at the wrapping. Tyler growled more loudly. The scent of new leather and shiny chrome wafted into the hall.
    â€œThere!” Dad said, as if he’d just made it himself. “It’s got a speedometer and a clock with a timer . . . And this shows you how many miles you’ve pedalled.”
    Amy snapped, “I have seen one before, you know.”
    The bike loured at them aggressively.
    â€œCourse, sweetheart, it’s not just for me. I bought it for both of us. You’ll be able to use it too.”
    Amy lies in bed, abruptly awake. Beads of sweat on her forehead drip into her hair. She’s had the nightmare again, the first time for ages. The thunder of horses’ hooves, the streak of silent lightning, the terror, the feeling of paralysis.
    The details are always the same.
    Each time the nightmare returns, she thinks, Maybe this is the last time I’ll ever have it . But she knows she’s only trying to cheer herself up.
    She looks at her clock. Five in the morning.
    She’ll never get back to sleep now, there’s no point in even trying. She throws back the sheet and blanket, slips out of bed. Her back aches. She and Dad had worked for two solid hours last night, clearing that garage.
    She patters into the bathroom, reaches in the cabinet for some toothpaste. A new bottle catches her eye. She pulls it out. It’s hair dye. The seal on the bottle has not been broken. Especially for Men! shouts the label. Lose That Grey! Regain Your Youthful Looks!
    Amy replaces the bottle. Suddenly she feels like going back to bed. On the landing, she notices the door to Dad’s bedroom stands slightly ajar. She pushes it open and peers round. Dad’s pyjamas lie crumpled on the bed, his work suit swings from its hanger.
    Back on the landing, she hears the kitchen door click. She shoots into her room, darts to the window, wrenches at the curtain.
    Dad’s running through the garden towards the Common. No, not running,