Daughters Read Online Free PDF Page B

area was famed, ran cold and clear. The shimmering silence was broken only by the corn soughing, the crack of oak and elm, and the tin-can caw of the rooks. Sheep and cattle dotted the horizon like the colourful images from a medieval book of hours …
    As she read on – and there were several more pages in kind – the tiny hallway appeared even more cramped than normal. Outside in the street, a siren sounded and the dustmen scraped bins along the pavements. Looking down, she noticed the feathers of dirt drawn on the tiles by the draught. Looking up, she saw the grime etched into the glass panels of the front door.
    ‘Dirty, nasty place, the city,’ her mother had said, when she arrived to help out after Bill had left. ‘You can’t stay here. You need to come back home to Cornwall. Live near us.
Please
. It’s better for the children.’ Her complexion had gleamed with fresh air, and the smugness of the committed country dweller. ‘We can arrange things. Schools, friends …’
    Lara had been standing in the centre of the room. Itwas strewn with children’s stuff. She hadn’t changed her jeans in weeks. Her hair draped lankly on her shoulders. The room needed painting and, because of the rain beating outside, it was dark. As she stood there, it seemed to her that the walls were closing in. They were both prison and security of sorts.
    No
.
    ‘Lara,’ her mother argued. ‘Think of the children.’
    At that, Lara turned on her. ‘I think of
nothing
else.’
    Here, hidden in the streets, she could wear blinkers, put her head down and look neither right nor left.
    Over the years, she had become successful as a city dweller: grafted into its ways, its smells, its variety, its indifference. It suited her. She had grown to love the rough-and-tumble – and she had taught herself, above all, to be a creature of its streets and tumult.
    Yes, the city was dirty and brutish, but the lobby who argued that it was only that did not know the half of it.
    The final line of Sarah’s note read: ‘Please come and see Membury. I want you to
know
it as much as I will.’
    Eve’s email to Lara began:
Wedding Plans, Stage One
    First Question: What kind of wedding?
    Typical Eve. Clear and decided.
     
    She continued:
Once we have the location, then we can set the date. We can’t do anything without the location. Love Bridezilla
    What kind of wedding?
In Eve’s case, it was a rhetorical question, and what Lara wanted for Eve was what Lara had wanted for herself – but better.
… the streams feeding the watercress beds, for which the area was famed, ran cold and clear. The shimmering silence was broken only by the corn soughing, the crack of oak and elm and the tin-can caw of the rooks …
    How strange. Matthew Banks’s description of the village had crawled inside her head and gone to sleep, waking every so often to nudge her. ‘The shimmering silence … the crack of oak and elm …’
    She found herself wanting to go there so she could see it for herself.
    Bill was amenable and, after consulting him, Eve arranged for Andrew and Lara to travel down to Middleford the following Sunday.
    It might be a Sunday morning, and freezing, but it was astonishing how busy the station was. Cluttered with groups, luggage, vendors, the forecourt was an animated panorama of ants.
    Punctual as ever, Eve was already there, waiting under the clock. Lara paused to take a good look. Black beret, short circular fifties jacket, jeans tucked into Spanish leather riding boots. Her restless gaze was everywhere as she talked into her phone.
    Eve spotted her, terminated the call, snatched Lara’s hand and held it to her cheek. ‘Thank you for coming.’
    She kissed her stepdaughter who smelt – slightly – of cigars, which would have horrified the fastidious Eve. ‘Where’s Andrew?’
    ‘Buying papers. Everything OK at home?’
    ‘Fine.’ Lara dished out the cappuccinos she had bought at the kiosk. ‘Here. I bet you haven’t had