The Other Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘For what we are about to receive,’ she says, ‘may God help us to be truly thankful. Amen.’
    She opens her eyes and leans towards me, resting on her elbows so that her breasts, buttoned up inside a blue cardigan, balloon over the surface. ‘Well?’ Her eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Did you have a lovely time with your friend? I thought she was staying for tea?’ She picks up her cup and takes a careful sip, lips puckered, keeping her eyes fixed on me.
    I glance down at a pile of chips shiny with grease, and a row of stubby fish fingers. I slice into one and notice bits of brown inside the white flakes. I let my shoulders rise and fall.
    I feel Mum frown. ‘There’s nothing the matter, is there?’
    My chest is so tight that my words can’t come out. I shake my head. My hair falls over my face. ‘Dad got angry.’
    ‘Cariad… what about?’ She reaches out her hand, small as my own. Her fingers are warm.
    I want to cry, to push my head into the curve of her shoulder, close my eyes against the comfort of her chest, blue wool rubbing my skin. But I feel angry. Together, she and Dad, they’ve ruined my life. I pull my hand away, stab a couple of chips and ram them into my mouth.
    I chew, tasting salt. The difficulty of swallowing releases my chest. ‘I played a record. Amber wanted to dance.’
    Her forehead crumples. ‘I’m sorry, my love. You know how he is about that machine. I’ll have a word with him.’
    I shake my head. ‘It’s too late.’
    She begins to protest, ‘Oh, I’m sure it isn’t…’
    I look at her. For the first time in my life I’m aware that she doesn’t understand me. The moment tenses, uncoils.
    ‘What did Dad do… in the war?’
    I’ve never asked before. The question hangs in the air like an ugly scrawl of graffiti. I hear the big clock ticking on the wall above the calendar. A fly has got in through the open window. It buzzes over the pot plants on the sill behind the sink, and settles on a spiky leaf to clean its legs.
    My mother looks at her hands linked on the table in front of her. She’s fiddling with her wedding ring, pushing it into the give of flesh. I shift in my chair. Maybe she didn’t hear? She swallows and I hear the hard gulp as saliva goes down her throat.
    ‘Where has this come from?’ she asks quietly. ‘Did Amber say anything?’
    ‘No.’ My voice is husky.
    ‘I don’t know what to tell you.’ She holds her clasped hands up, as if in prayer. ‘He was… Well. He did… he just did his duty, love.’ She doesn’t sound very certain.
    ‘But he was on the wrong side,’ I remind her.
    There’s another pause and I look down, noticing a mark on my skirt. I try to brush it off, but it’s an oily stain. Mum is still silent. ‘He must have… done… bad things,’ I say in a small voice.
    ‘No.’ She catches her breath. ‘It was the war that was bad, not the men in it. Not most of them.’ She’s speaking quickly. ‘Millions of people died in the war. It was terrible. Hitler was an evil person, Klaudia. That doesn’t make all Germans evil.’
    ‘Dad was a Nazi… wasn’t he?’ I put my fork down. I can’t eat.
    ‘Klaudia!’ She looks shocked. ‘I don’t know what’s started you off on all these questions all of a sudden.’ Her face closes. ‘Of course your father wasn’t a Nazi. It was a long time ago. Years before you were born. Another life. Da doesn’t like to talk about it. It was very hard for him.’ She leans forward again. ‘Look at me, cariad. Don’t worry about the war or what your father did in it. It’s not for little girls to worry about. He’s a good man.’ She blinks and I notice a tiny twitch on her left eyelid making the skin pucker and tremble.
    I open my mouth. And close it again. I want to believe her.
    She smiles, pushing herself up from the table. ‘Now, eat up bach. I’ve got Angel Delight for pudding. Caramel. Your favourite. You can invite your friend another time, can’t you?’
     
    Amber moved