Heartstones Read Online Free PDF Page B

wheel, lost in the rotations of the clay; eating biscuits in a big armchair, staring out at crashing waves; lying on her grandmother’s wrought-iron bed – her back stinging from too much sun; the slightly acrid smell of the gas kiln mixed with the smell of the sea; the beach with its pearly shells and long swathes of seaweed; the two boys from the Castle. Phoebe had forgotten their names but not their white blond hair or their ability to dive, sleek and smooth as gannets, from the black rock at high tide. And all the time the Castle up above them; impossibly romantic with its gothic façade and creeper-covered turrets, drawing her grandmother’s wistful gaze, luring Phoebe and Nola up the lane to peer through wrought-iron gates that they were never allowed to walk through.
    Phoebe wondered if the boathouse was still standing. Maybe it had fallen down, been swept away by winter storms or maybe it had simply collapsed into the sand for lack of love or care. Even if it was still there it must be in pretty bad condition, not fit to live in, surely.
    Suddenly she had to know if it still existed. Phoebe sat up. How long had it been since anyone had lived there? How long since they’d picked her grandmother up from the airport on that bright blue morning? Fifteen years? More? She stood up, determined to leave as soon as possible, get a ferry, buy a map, and she would drive her little Morris Minor until she found it. As she began searching in the cupboard for her rucksack she was already imagining the blissful isolation of the west of Ireland. 

Chapter Three
    Phoebe didn’t take much with her; she dumped bags of clothes and books and ornaments outside the various charity shops along the high street – her life so far in a series of bunched-up black bin liners.
    A letter to her landlord, a letter to the school, a letter to Nola that she ripped up at the last moment and threw into the dustbin along with the string of heart stones as she walked out of the flat for the last time.
    She swung the battered rucksack into the back of her car. The rucksack contained a jumble of scrunched-up clothes and the few items that she’d thought worth keeping: the notes from David, the creased photograph, the copy of Jane Eyre , a sketchbook, pencils, a small, round, green-glazed, jar – a present long ago from her grandmother, a selection of drawings done for her by Amy and Ruben over the years and the details of a savings account which contained the last of her inheritance.
    With a pang of sadness she remembered it was Rubenʼs birthday the following weekend. Phoebe had promised him sheʼd go to his party at Laser Quest. The previous year she had led a team of eight- and nine-year-olds to victory over Steve and Rubenʼs side; Ruben had been determined to be on Phoebeʼs team this year. Phoebe wondered if she should stay till after the party. She thought of Nolaʼs angry face and doubted that she would be on the guest list any more. Instead she went down to the corner shop and bought a brightly coloured rocket-shaped card. She put a twenty-pound note inside and added a brief message:
    Hope that Laser Quest is a blast – go get ʼem space boy! Love you loads, Aunty Phee x.
    p.s. give your sister a big hug from me – go on, give her the hug, sheʼs not that bad!!
    Just as she was about to slip the key through the front door, Phoebe realised she had forgotten the school tea towel. It had slipped behind the kitchen radiator; she had to use a wooden spoon to poke it out, the linen creased and cardboard-hard. Phoebe’s heart lurched; she’d miss the children, miss her class. She stopped, staring round the empty flat. Was she doing the right thing? Should she at least go back to school until the end of term? Then she remembered the letter she’d already posted and winced at the thought of Victoria Leach’s reaction when she discovered that Phoebe had left without giving notice. There would be no going back.
    The ferry was old. The