The Art of Forgetting Read Online Free PDF

worked in London.”
    “Linda? Is she coming?”
    “No, she’s not. Do you remember, she went missing when you were both young? Did she come back?”
    “Come back? Did she? She was a naughty girl, but I didn’t tell them that. Is she coming here?”
    They give up at that point. It is clear that their mother is too confused to throw any light on the subject today and anyway it is time to leave, so they sort out her shoes and drive to the pub without mentioning it again. It is both funny and sad, the way she looks out of the window and exclaims in surprise and delight at what should be the familiar streets, fields and trees as they approach the pub, a mile or two into the countryside. To her, the buildings are all big and impressive, the shops new and inviting, and the landscape must seem like the African veldt, judging by how excited she becomes. Laura is sitting in the back with her and she can see Kelly’s shoulders shaking. She hopes it is with laughter.
    The meal passes without incident, and it is only at the last minute that Laura decides to go back to The Willows with Kelly. She could just as easily jump into the car with Patrick and the kids. There are all the usual Sunday things to do when they get back and she could use the time, but she taps Patrick on the arm as they approach their car.
    “I think I’ll go with Kelly, just in case,” she says. “You don’t mind, do you?”
    Patrick merely shrugs and points the key fob at the car. She almost changes her mind again, but then he stops and looks at her. “No, go on. You’ll only worry if you don’t, but Kelly is perfectly capable, you know.”
    She knows that, or at least, part of her does. Although she is not yet thirty, Kelly has volunteered in a village in Africa, travelled on an aid convoy and now she is teaching part-time in a tough school in south London. But dealing with your mother, your confused and sometimes difficult mother, when you are the baby of the family?
    Laura turns and calls over to them, a couple of cars away. “Hang on, I’m coming with you!”
    She sees the slight flash of irritation on Kelly’s face.
    “I could’ve managed.”
    “I know. Sorry. I’m just a worrier, but I’ll get better, I promise.”
    They sit in the back as they had before. Kelly’s car is old and has no child locks in the front, so there is no choice, not if they want to avoid a repeat of the incident when their mother decided to get out of the car whilst they were waiting at a red light. It was lucky they’d been in the inside lane, or the results could have been tragic, but even though no-one had been hurt, it had been incredibly difficult to coax her back into the car. Kelly had to drive round the corner and sit, hazard lights flashing, until they arrived about five minutes later. Laura was fraught and close to tears but their mother remained serenely unaware of the trouble she had caused.
    “Linda Lucaretti,” she says.
    “What’s that, Mum?”
    “Linda Lucaretti. That was her name. Do you remember? She used to go on and on about being Italian. I’d forgotten about that. We were quite good friends for a while, but then, but then ...”
    “She went missing, didn’t she?” says Laura.
    But the moment of relative lucidity seems to have passed, as Judy starts to talk about her sewing box which she is convinced has been stolen. In fact, they haven’t even brought it from her house as they have no idea where it is and she has always hated sewing anyway. But still, no amount of encouragement can persuade her to leave the subject alone, even when she is safely ensconced in her room. Eventually they have to leave somebody else to deal with it.
    “Phew,” says Kelly as they set off for Laura’s house at last. “It’s just as well she didn’t have that sewing box, or I might have stuffed her head in it.”
    That makes Laura laugh . “I know. Look, I don’t think we’re going to get much out of her, nothing more than snippets anyway, but now we