Lies Like Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

out of her at home.’
    ‘Of course. I’ll call you, I expect we have your number on file.’
    ‘Yes. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll telephone in. Audrey’s been a very poorly girl for a long time, Miss –’
    ‘Miss Jones.’
    ‘Right, that’s it, Miss Jones. She’s missed a lot of work. Of course she’ll do her best to catch up, but she’s not the brightest button – no offence, love.’ She looked at me quickly and reached out, wiping some imaginary stain from my chin. I tossed my head, trying to get her off me. The room was watching, agog, and I knew I was the colour of ketchup. ‘It runs in the family – I was useless at school myself. Came into my own later. So, we’d both appreciate it if you’d take that into account. And I hope that the moment she’s not feeling well, you’ll let her go to the nurse, or call me.’
    Miss Jones looked at me, hesitating, her smile strained.
    ‘It’s lovely to have you in our form, Audrey. Everyone’s welcome in our school community and we’ll do our best to help you any way we can.’
    ‘That’s wonderful. There’s a warmth to this place; you can feel it.’ Mum smiled, turned round and looked at the class as if she actually expected them all to think she was totally normal. They stared back, their faces stupid with smirks no one was bothering to hide
    ‘I’ll let you get on. Have a good day, Audrey, love.’ And then Mum hugged me, as if she hadn’t made me look enough of a fool, and I sloped off to an empty desk; trying hard to disappear.
    First we had French. I’m rubbish at French, but the girl next to me nudged my arm.
    ‘Don’t make eye contact,’ she said. I stared at her, confused.
    ‘With Madame Partridge, she’s a bit of a bitch,’ she whispered, ‘and if you look up, then she’ll keep on asking you all the hard questions about the past perfect. So, eyes down. Right?’
    My neighbour had dark hair, dark eyes, rosy cheeks and wore bright yellow boots, Dr Martens. She saw me looking and stretched out her legs.
    ‘Cool, aren’t they?’
    ‘Yeah, really.’
    ‘I’m not supposed to wear them, but I get away with it. If you smile, you can get away with a lot.’ She grinned, showed train-tracked teeth. I smiled back.
    ‘I’m Jen. You’re Audrey. I heard your mum say.’
    ‘Oh. Yeah, well, she was a bit full on. Embarrassing.’
    ‘My mum’s the same. They all are.’
    ‘Really?’
    Jen nodded. When Madame Partridge asked me my name and I replied, ‘
Je m’appelle Audrey
,’ Madame cringed and let loose a torrent of words.
    ‘She says your accent’s a nightmare,’ Jen muttered. ‘But if you ask me, so’s hers.’ And then she laughed and Ilaughed too. It didn’t last. I couldn’t follow a thing, even with Jen’s help, and fifteen minutes in I stuck up my hand.
    ‘Can I go to the loo?’ I said.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘I need the toilet,’ I repeated and someone behind me laughed.
    Madame said something in French and I stared at her until she threw her hands up and waved me out and I pretty much ran from the class and down the corridor, no idea where I was heading until I found the toilets. The smell of disinfectant scored my throat, but I locked the door of a cubicle, sat on the closed lid of a seat and clenched my fingers tight, balled them into fists so I wouldn’t scratch or scrape at my skin, and waited for the bell.
    At lunchtime I retraced my steps to the front office. No one was watching and I slid out of the doors and down the drive, shrugging into my coat.
    The primary school was across the road; Mum and I had dropped Peter there earlier and I needed to find him now.
    Staring through the netting into the playground, I searched for my brother among the screaming, racing throng. The longer I couldn’t see him, the more my heart thumped, sick and sinking in my chest.
    ‘Where are you?’ I muttered, scanning the edges until I saw him, on his own, leaning against a wall. Behind him towered a huge painted