The Olive Tree Read Online Free PDF

was aproned by an ornate
wrought-iron Juliet balcony, giving a bizarre impression of an Italianate villa. She wondered why she hadn’t remembered it like this, but then realised that since she’d last been here,
she’d actually lived for a while in Italy, so was now able to make the comparison.
    She went back inside and walked upstairs to Immy’s bedroom. Her daughter was standing in front of the mirror in her best pink party dress. Helena couldn’t help but smile as she
watched Immy admiring herself unseen, twisting her small body and throwing her glorious flaxen hair this way and that as she contentedly surveyed her reflection through wide, innocent blue
eyes.
    ‘I thought I left you to unpack, darling.’
    ‘I have, Mummy.’ With a sigh of irritation, Immy dragged herself away from the mirror and pointed to indicate that the clothes strewn all over the room were no longer in her
case.
    ‘I meant unpack into the
drawers
, not onto the floor. And take that dress off. You can’t wear it now.’
    ‘Why not?’ Immy’s rosebud lips drew together into a pout. ‘It’s my favourite.’
    ‘I know, but it’s for a party, not for running round a dusty old house in the heat.’
    Immy watched her mother sweep her clothes into a pile on the bed and begin to stow them away. ‘Anyway, the drawers smell funny inside.’
    ‘They just smell of old,’ countered Helena. ‘We’ll leave them open to air. They’ll be fine.’
    ‘What are we going to do today? Is there Disney Channel on the television here?’
    ‘I . . .’ It was almost midday now, and the morning had passed in a blur of panic trying to find a doctor for her apparently delirious son. Helena sat down abruptly on the bed,
suddenly longing for the Disney Channel too. ‘We have lots to do today, darling, and no, there isn’t even a television here.’
    ‘Can we buy one, then?’
    ‘No, we can’t,’ she snapped, then regretted it immediately. Immy had been so good, both on the journey here and this morning, amusing herself quietly. She reached for her
daughter and gave her a cuddle. ‘Mummy’s just got to sort out a few things, then we’ll go exploring, okay?’
    ‘Yes, but I might be a bit hungry. I didn’t have no breakfast.’
    ‘No, you didn’t, so I think we’d better go shopping very soon. I’m just going to check on Alex, then we’ll go out.’
    ‘I know, Mummy!’ Immy’s face lit up as she scrambled off Helena’s knee and began to root around in the small rucksack she’d carried with her on the plane.
‘I’ll make Alex a “Get Well” card to cheer him up.’
    ‘That’s a lovely idea, darling,’ Helena agreed as Immy brandished paper and felt-tips triumphantly.
    ‘Or . . .’ Immy stuck a pen in her mouth as she thought. ‘If he’s not going to get well, do I pick some flowers from outside to put on his grave?’
    ‘You could, but I promise you he is not going to die, so I think the card is a better idea.’
    ‘Oh. He said he was when I went in to see him this morning.’
    ‘Well, he’s not. You start making it, and I’ll see you in a few minutes.’
    Helena left the room and walked along the corridor to see Alex, half of her wishing that her son would morph into a hoodie-wearing
normal
adolescent, one who enjoyed football, girls and
hanging around shopping centres at night with his mates, horrifying the odd granny with their antics. Instead, he had an off-the-scale IQ, which sounded good in practice, but actually seemed to
cause more problems than his high-voltage brain could ever solve. He behaved more like an old man than a teenager.
    ‘How are you?’ She peered cautiously round the door. Alex was lying in his boxer shorts, one arm slung across his forehead.
    ‘Mmph,’ came the reply.
    She sat down on the edge of the bed. The ancient fan she’d dragged out of Angus’ bedroom to lend a cool breeze to her son’s burning forehead clanked with the effort of
turning.
    ‘Not a good start,