The Mimosa Tree Read Online Free PDF

continues addressing my mother. ‘He’sbetter looking than that poor Russian fellow, Gor-boo-giovy. It looks like a bird shat on his head.’ And her belly laugh rocks the table and causes coffee to evacuate the cups.
    â€˜At least the Russian is a real man,’ counters Mum. ‘That Reagan fellow looks like he spends a lot of time fixing up his hair. It’s not attractive for a man to be so vain.’
    â€˜Are you kidding me?’ I squawk. ‘These two men are going to start World War Three, and all you can talk about is who is better looking?’
    Via rolls her eyes. ‘What the hell did they teach you at that school, huh? These men aren’t stupid enough to start a war. You think they let any idiot become a president?’
    â€˜He’s an actor, ’ I say but I know it’s pointless. Via folds the newspaper and pushes it away to let me know she is done talking about it.
    â€˜Via,’ says Mum, getting up and taking the sugar bowl from the cupboard. ‘Let me give you some money for petrol.’ She takes out a wad of notes, curling out at the corners like a flower starting to bloom. She slides one over to me, for lunch I suppose, the other she tries to give to Via.
    â€˜Not necessary,’ says Via and waves it away.
    â€˜I insist,’ says Mum pushing the note into her hand. ‘You drive us everywhere.’ Via takes the money and puts it back into the bowl with the rest of the cash and returns it to the cupboard.
    â€˜I don’t need it because I am not taking her.’ Mum looks anxiously at Via but I feel a sudden hope. Perhaps something terrible has happened which is going to prevent me from going to uni today. Could someone have died? Is Via dressed up for the funeral?
    â€˜Look at you two,’ she says patting each of us on the head. ‘So much worry. But I have a surprise. ’ She checks her wristwatch, a move that involves squinting her eyes and holding the watch as far away from her face as her arm will let her. ‘She will be here in fifteen minutes.’
    â€˜She?’ say Mum and I together.
    â€˜Felicia Ricardo,’ says Via, relishing the way the ‘r’ sound quivers across her tongue.
    â€˜That rich lady you clean for?’ I say, not really understanding where this is going.
    â€˜No, stupid. Her daughter. She goes to the same university as you. Isn’t that nice? She has a licence. ’
    Mum gets up suddenly, driving the table forward. ‘She is coming here? Now? ’ She picks up plates, puts them down to wipe crumbs and picks up plates again. ‘But the house! My clothes!’
    â€˜Oh don’t be silly, Sofia. You shouldn’t care what other people think.’ She licks a finger then uses it to push back a stray hair then takes the coffee cups Mum is holding and puts them back on the table. ‘She will take us as she finds us!’
    Then, like a scene from The Shining, I look up and there she is. She is standing on the other side of our sliding door: curvy, olive-skinned, a sweep of golden hair secured at the side with a ruffled peach scrunchie matched perfectly to her tailored peach suit. Her arm is bent up to her shoulder, a pair of large dark sunglasses held beside her cheek, and a cerise leather handbag slung over her elbow. Behind her, the rising sun illuminates her blond, cascading river of hair and she seems on fire with light. Via pulls open the door and ushers her in.
    â€˜Good morning, Mrs Grassi,’ says the stranger in perfect Italian, kissing the air next to Via’s ears. ‘You look so elegant this morning.’
    â€˜Oh, I do what I can,’ says Via tilting her head to her shoulder and laughing lightly. She steps aside, waves her in like she’s flipping a letter on Wheel of Fortune. I look at Mum whose complexion is now the same colour as her pink nightgown. Her eyes blink nervously.
    â€˜Felicia Ricardo,’ says Via. ‘Let me