The Liar's Chair Read Online Free PDF Page B

glow from the lounge ahead of
him lights up fuzzy hair on his shoulders and down his arms, like his body is a dark cloud in front of the sun, and I can see more curls of fur down his back. He reminds me of a bear standing on
two legs. I step back quickly and a board squeaks. The man turns his head with a flick and he stares at me. Even though it’s very dark, I can tell he’s smiling. I stand completely
still, holding my breath.
    Mum’s voice comes from the lounge.
    ‘Brian, darling, what’s taking you so long? Come here, you gorgeous creature.’
    The man turns his head back to the room and walks in, slowly. There are huge dimples on his bottom as he swaggers through the door. His bum looks as if someone’s dug their hands into lumps
of wet clay and I think of God making the first man out of the dust of the soil and breathing into his nostrils to make him alive.
    From inside the room a woman giggles. It’s not Mummy. The door closes and is locked again. I don’t know where Daddy is but his shoes are still by the front door.
    I go back to bed and pull the covers over my face.
    The next day at breakfast, Mummy’s already up and dressed with all her make-up on.
    ‘Are you going out?’ I ask.
    ‘No, I just woke early and it was such a beautiful day that I couldn’t help myself.’
    ‘Help yourself to what?’
    She hums and doesn’t answer.
    Daddy’s plate is to one side with only half his food eaten. Mum says he’d had enough and has gone to work early.
    I have bacon and eggs with fried bread and freshly squeezed orange juice, but I’m not used to this much. Like Daddy. Mum is smoking, and as she hums she blows smoke from her nose. She
stares out the kitchen window. I recognize the song, it’s called ‘Killing Me Softly’ and it’s her favourite. She has the record and she plays it all the time.
    ‘Mummy,’ I say, ‘there was a man in the house last night who didn’t have any clothes on.’
    She spins round and looks at me. ‘Don’t be silly. You must have been dreaming.’
    ‘He looked like a bear.’
    ‘Now I know you were dreaming.’
    ‘But I wasn’t. I saw him. I heard you talking to him.’
    Her mouth goes all tight and wrinkly. ‘Oh, Rachel, you’re such a little fibber. If you can’t lie properly, then don’t say anything at all.’
    I stare at my food and go to eat some more, but before I can Mum lifts up the plate and starts scraping the bits into the bin. ‘Don’t want you getting fat now, do we?’ she
says. She picks up my bag and coat and hands them to me. The bag is full, so she must have made my packed lunch already, and it’s exciting to imagine what she’s put in as I normally do
it myself. ‘Probably time for school now anyway.’ She opens the back door.
    ‘But it’s only eight o’clock.’
    ‘Oh well.’
    I smile. ‘Can’t I stay with you a bit longer?’
    ‘Sorry, Cinders, but I’m busy busy busy today. You can wait with your friends at the gates.’
    I stand on the doorstep until Mum shuts the door and I have to jump off the edge. Her singing gets louder, and I can still hear her through the open windows as I walk round to the front. I
tiptoe inside the squares, not on the lines of the garden path, all the way to the gate, which is good, as it means a meteor won’t crash into our house while I’m at school.

5
GRAVY
    In the week since the accident, the season turns abruptly to autumn, and now it’s hard to imagine the late heavy summer existed at all. Days of rain ended the heat,
turning the hard ground to mulch. The mid-October leaves are disappearing fast from the trees, and the few that hang on do so in bewildered stoicism. Even though the scratches on my arms have
faded, the weather gives me an excuse to cover myself up, the habit of layers a comfort, as if beneath them I will disappear. Tonight I wear a cardigan over my dress and use a shawl when I’m
at the table. I leave my hair down how David likes it – it’s my best feature and lets