Dark Mirrors Read Online Free PDF

applauding her own level of self-control. And she felt so much the better for it so that when she settled in for the monumental ‘last night’, cross-legged and alone on the sitting-room floor, she felt surprisingly alive and a little bit dangerous.
    Surrounded by old photographs, letters and general junk from her school and college days, she sipped slowly on a glass of wine while sifting through her life gone by, memories that had lain dormant in a plain brown box under the stairs, unnoticed and forgotten, for almost a decade. Letters, postcards and trinkets. It was odd to sit and relive their moments of glory: an old badge from her first rag week, a train ticket from that summer ‘hippie trip’ across Europe, flyers from gigs, beer mats with quirky messages written in bleeding ink. An old forgotten life with missed emotions, camaraderie, friendship, mischief, ambition and fun. Lots of fun! All stirred up now to muddy the already cloudy waters with charms and snapshots. A journey through time, an omen maybe: taking back ownership of her life before Philip? She felt odd, a little bitter perhaps, resentful of what she knew she had missed out on. But how could she possibly regret the last ten years? Because without them there would be no Matthew and no Amy and life without them was simply unimaginable. The old faces looked back at her as she sipped on her lonely drink, passing photograph after photograph through her hands and wondering what they were all doing now – they all looked so young – mind you, so did she! All hips and bones! Carefree and beautiful. Fin still saw some of them out and about every now and then. They used to ask after her, but that had stopped ages ago and she wondered if they would remember her now? They were so different: they with their varying degrees of success, not a child between them, living up the single life, late nights and later mornings. Would they even recognise her? She wasn’t a patch on the old Esmée . . . Realising she was beginning to wallow, she swallowed the last bitter drop before sweeping everything back into its box. Taping it shut, she added it to the top of the heap in the hall.
    Too much melancholy, she told herself before turning out the lights and climbing the stairs to her bed.

    Chapter 4

    She drove like a novice, deliberate and slow, taking her time down the tree-lined avenue and through the village, with Matthew in the back seat. Feeling exceptionally uneasy she manoeuvred the car through the busy streets, slicing through the elongated shadows cast by the afternoon sun as its rays percolated dramatically through the gaps in the trees. Fin, accompanied by Amy, tailed them with the remaining boxes and bags jammed into her boot.
    “Where’s this, Mum?” Matthew asked as eventually they came to a slow stop outside the cottage.
    “Wait and see,” she replied quietly, with more trepidation than excitement. “Wait and see.”
    “Who lives here?” he persisted.
    Esmée took off her seatbelt and turned to look at her son.
    “This,” she told him calmly, “is our new house, our new home – it’s where we’re coming to live.”
    Pausing, she gave him a moment, letting it sink into his six-year-old brain, unsure of what kind of a reaction she should expect. But he said nothing, his eyes, in response, darting frantically between the brightly painted door and his mother and again out the window of the car to further examine the pebbledash walls and pretty flowers in baskets that swung gently in the morning breeze. Esmée could only imagine the thoughts that flitted through his tender mind and tried to encourage him with a smile.
    “So what do you think?” she asked.
    His response was simple and understandable. “But why, Mummy? What’s wrong with our own house?”
    “Nothing, honey, nothing’s the matter with it – but this house is for us only.”
    “What do you mean?”
    His sudden feeling of anxiety was palpable. She wasn’t dealing with this very well