Watching You Read Online Free PDF Page A

awful.”
    “Thanks, Mum, you look like shit too.”
    Marnie sighs. “Can we start again?”
    Zoe holds up her hands, accepting the truce.
    “Good morning, daughter of mine, love of my life, you look like you have spilled Blue Loo on your head, but it’s your head and your hair and you have the right to ruin it any way you wish.”
    “Thank you, mother of mine, can I have some money?”
    “Why?”
    “Ancient history—the British Museum trip, the permission slip is due in today.”
    “How much?”
    “Ten quid.”
    “Do I sign a something?”
    “I forged your signature.”
    Zoe scoffs the last mouthful of toast and picks up her schoolbag.
    “Later, Mother.”
    “Wait!”
    “What?”
    Marnie points to her cheek. “Even to the post office.”
    Zoe rolls her eyes and plants the kiss. “Even to the post office.”
      
    Marnie puts on her blue summer dress and a cardigan. It’s the prettiest thing she has and it makes her feel better. The dress has small white flowers stitched around the neck and reminds her of her honeymoon in Florence when she bought a similar dress at the open-air market in San Lorenzo.
    Elijah is dressed and most of his gluten-free waffles consumed. They leave on time for once. Halfway down the stairs Marnie’s legs almost buckle and she grabs the banister, sitting for a moment.
    “Are you all right, Mummy?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Why is you sitting?”
    “I’m resting.”
    It’s a sunny morning in late September. The trees looking tired. Wilting. Elijah skips along the pavement, jumping over the cracks. His SpongeBob SquarePants satchel contains a volcanic egg from Mount Vesuvius ( he pronounces it Venus ), which he’s taking to school for show-and-tell for the twentieth time. Marnie can imagine an audience of pre-schoolers rolling their eyes and muttering, “Please, God, not again.”
    As they reach Warrington Crescent she gets a familiar feeling, the weight of eyes upon her. She can’t explain the jittery, crawling sensation across the back of her neck as if she were being spied upon or quietly laughed at.
    Sometimes she looks over her shoulder or steps into a doorway, looking for somebody, but the street is always empty. No eyes. No footsteps. No shadows.
      
    Elijah’s nursery is an old rectory attached to the church. Smelling of crayons and poster paint, the playroom is furnished with miniature plastic tables and chairs. Marnie hangs Elijah’s satchel on a hook and signs her name into the book. Elijah hugs her twice but doesn’t cry. Those days are long gone.
    Mrs. Shearer wants a word. “It’s the end-of-year concert,” she says. “We’re doing a song about fathers but I thought of Elijah.”
    “What about him?”
    “Given the circumstances, I thought it might make him sad.”
    “Sad?”
    “By bringing up painful memories.”
    “He has only good memories.”
    Mrs. Shearer smiles stiffly. “Of course, yes, very good.”
    Marnie should be more forgiving, but she can’t bear the expressions of sympathy from people or ignore the conversations that she knows are going on behind her back. Gossip. Asides. She couldn’t keep her husband. He ran off. Abandoned her. Now she’s a single mother. The worst comments are those about “moving on.” What does that even mean? She’s moving. The earth is turning. The sun rises and sets.
    Her mobile is vibrating. She touches the screen but doesn’t recognize the number.
    “Is that Marnella?”
    She recognizes the voice.
    “Hello, Owen, how was the funeral?”
    “Awful.”
    “Where are you now?”
    “I’m at Paddington station.”
    “Why?”
    “I thought I might take a day trip up north. Would you like to come?”
    “I’m pretty busy just now, but it’s a nice day for a train trip.”
    “Yes it is. I’m going to keep my promise, Marnella, but perhaps you’d do something for me.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Nice girl like you shouldn’t be having sex with strangers.”
    “I don’t think you’re in any