The Holiday Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

let’s see.’
    Sighing inwardly, knowing that a jealous spat between the siblings was bound to ensue, Dorothy led the way upstairs. The three of them picked their way over the dust sheets, abandoned tools and other builders’ detritus cluttering the landing to the first door.
    ‘Look at the view, girls!’ Dorothy threw open the door leading to the yellow room. ‘Who wants this one, overlooking the garden and the cliff?’
    Assuming their mother was showing them the best room in the hope of winning them over, Pru, who was always quickest off the mark when it came to getting what she wanted, jumped in: ‘I do!’
    Connie’s shoulders slumped dramatically. ‘I knew she’d get the first choice. It’s not fair. I really like this room. Pru gets the best of everything.’
    Fighting the urge to scream, Dorothy forced a bright smile and kept her voice tone jolly as she told them, ‘Prudence, wipe that conceited look off your face. Connie, please refrain from sulking. I have a super room for you – follow me.’
    Pru pushed past Connie, who whispered, ‘You always get the best.’
    And Pru replied sotto voce : ‘Tough shit, little sister.’
    When their mother opened the door of the blue room, Connie’s mouth dropped open as she took in the double-aspect windows with views of the beach and the bay. ‘Yes!’ she cried, fist punching the air.‘ Yes ! This has to be the best room. I love it! Thanks, Mum.’
    Pru was now the one who was in a sulk. ‘I thought you said you wanted the other room.’
    ‘Nope. This is mine and that is yours. Fair’s fair, eh, Mum?’
    Dorothy, distracted by the screech of the plumber drilling in the en-suite, answered vaguely, ‘Yes, of course, darling. Sort it out between the pair of you. Off you go.’ Moments later she was lost in a discussion about power showers and hot-water tanks.
    Pru glared at Connie. ‘Give me this room.’
    ‘No. You chose yours. This is mine.’
    ‘It’s too big for you.’
    ‘No it isn’t.’
    ‘The other room suits you much better.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Yellow is your favourite colour.’
    ‘No it isn’t. I like blue.’
    ‘You’re spoilt.’
    ‘You’re jealous.’
    Dorothy wandered back in from the bathroom.
    ‘All settled, girls?’ Registering the sulky expressions on the girls’ faces, she promptly abandoned all efforts to placate them. ‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake – why don’t you two go and explore the beach before I banish the pair of you to the box room – you’ll have plenty to mope about then, won’t you?’
    *
    Nothing more had been said about the bedrooms. Not because Pru had given up; she was just biding her time.
    The family didn’t visit Cornwall again until the Easter holidays. That first day, both sisters were squashed into the back of their father’s new Range Rover, surrounded by the bedding, kitchenware and other household bits and pieces their mother had packed around them after they’d got in.
    Henry insisted on having Radio 4 on for the entire journey, so the girls plugged themselves into their Sony Walkmans, staring glumly out of the windows at the passing traffic.
    At Bristol they stopped for elevenses. Moody as hell, Pru and Connie trooped in behind their parents, scowling at the food on offer in the cafeteria.
    Dorothy tried to adopt a light, cheery tone: ‘OK, girls, what do you want?’
    ‘A doughnut,’ said Connie.
    ‘That’s very fattening,’ said Dorothy, looking pointedly at Connie’s rounded tummy. ‘Have an orange juice and a banana. Pru?’
    Connie’s lip wobbled, stung by the suggestion she was overweight.
    Pru, still plugged into her Walkman, didn’t respond. ‘Pru!’ her mother asked again. No response. Henry took the headphones off his elder daughter’s ears and shouted, ‘Take those bloody things off and answer your mother!’
    Pru stared blankly. ‘What?’
    ‘Your mother has asked you three times: what do you want to eat?’
    ‘Nothing. And she only asked me twice.’
    Henry took