Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“He is so mean.” She gives a small, wet sniff as I perch my bum on the edge of her bed. “And he hates me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” I smooth a hand over her soft hair. “He doesn’t, not really. Brothers are just very good at making you think that.”
She turns her head over her shoulder, then swipes the back of her hand under her nose. I grab a tissue from her dressing table made to look like a starlet’s and pass it to her.
“Do you have a brother also?” she asks, swiping it under her nose.
“Worse.” I give a little twist of my mouth. “I have four of them.”
Her eyes widen with horror. “I would run away.”
“I did once.”
Keen to hear my tale of woe, she turns to face me. “What happened?”
“No one noticed.”
Her little mouth falls open.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” I add with a laugh. “I only ran away to the tree house at the bottom of the garden. It was the summer, and everyone was home from school, and some of my brother’s and sister’s had friends over.”
“You also have sisters?”
“Three.”
I watch her do that calculation in her head. “Six children?” she says, dismayed.
“Seven if you count me. But that summer, the house was like Gare du Norde.”
“Is that a very busy place?”
I give a wry-feeling smile. Why would I have possibly imagined using a train station as a point of reference would be useful to a child who travels by private jet?
“It is. Very,” I add, sliding her blonde locks away from her face. “Anyway, my mum called me in for lunch, and I was hungry, so…”
“You returned.”
“I did, and I was very miffed no one had noticed.”
“Miffed. I like this word. It means anger, yes?”
“Most displeased,” I say in my best posh voice. When she smiles, my insides feel a little like sunshine. “You know, one of my brothers told me I was adopted.”
“And that is not true?”
I shake my head. “Another time, he said if I didn’t stop being annoying, he’d put me in a box and post me to Scotland.”
She gives a tiny giggle.
“They’ve teased me, refused to let me play their games, made me cry, said things they didn’t mean— and things they probably did mean for five horrible minutes—and they’ve called me terrible names.”
“Like Felix?”
“Just like Felix. The annoying thing about brothers is they can be absolute pains and still love you very much. Mine do.” I pat her knee. “If I called any one of them tonight and said I needed them, they’d come. Oh, they’d complain when they got here, they’d still come.”
“From England?”
“They’d come from Timbuctoo. And probably fight over who got to rescue me.”
“Really?”
I nod. No need to explain they’re fiercely competitive. The same as me, apparently. While it pains me to admit it, Lavender might not be wrong. But more importantly, the Whittington brood are fiercely loyal.
“Felix wouldn’t do that for me,” she says, her voice small.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. He might pick on you, but I’ll bet he wouldn’t allow anyone else to.”
Her little mouth twists thoughtfully. “Felix frightened a boy at school who was horrible to me.”
“What did he do?”
“He grabbed him by the collar and told him he’d knock out his teeth if he did it again.”
I bite back a smile. “There you go.”
“He got detention.”
“Quite rightly so. You can’t go threatening people. Unless absolutely necessary. Which he obviously felt it was.”
“He said it was worth it and he put his arm around my shoulder.”
And there it is. No one hurts my sister but me. I tuck her hair behind her ear. “He might be a pain in the bum, but he’s your pain in the bum.”
A reluctant smile grows on her face.
“He still shouldn’t call me a loser.”
“Well, I think that’s something your dad will be making sure he understands as we speak.”
Her smile grows.
“Think there will be consequences?”
She nods. “I hope he has to clean out the llama stalls.”
“Double punishment!” I hold out my hand for a high-five. “Lola is bound to spit at him on your behalf.”
“Oui!” Her hand meets mine before I hold out my arms.
“Come here.” She almost throws herself against me, and I close my eyes as I pull her in tight. “Brothers, eh?” I press my lips to her silver-blond hair. “Can’t live with them and can’t adopt them out.”
“He is a crétin, but I will miss him when he goes to boarding school next month.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I say as her words turn watery, and she tightens her grip.
My goodness, love is such a paradox.
32
LUC
I watch a dozen thoughts and emotions flicker and fade across my son’s face.
“I was only telling the truth,” he mutters eventually, still staring at this hands.
“You were trying, and you succeeded in making your sister feel small.”
“She is small,” he mutters.