The Complete #LoveLondon Collection. Nikki Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ since she’d refused to shower for days on end, or come out of her room to eat with her parents, or see friends or family. It’d taken her dad intervening and suggesting they move to London to make a fresh start to pull her out of herself. Normally taciturn and unwilling to get between his wife and daughter, it was like his daughter’s crisis had finally given him words. ‘I’ve been out since we moved here, Mum,’ she defended, uncurling her legs to stretch her leg out, ‘trying to learn the streets.’

      ‘Twice,’ Stella answered, ‘barely qualifies.’

      George flushed. So what if she mostly stayed in watching TV or, when she got bored of that, watching passers-by from the living room window? It was perfectly normal to look at people sweeping up and down the leafy London street or dashing to bus-stops, and wonder who they were and where they were going. Wasn’t it? And it wasn’t creepy at all that she had a favourite; a tall guy with shaggy brown hair who was always smiling, no matter what the time of day was, no matter what the horrible weather was doing. He looked nice. Open and relaxed. She wished she felt how he looked. It had been pretty embarrassing though when he’d glanced sideways one evening and caught her gawping. He’d grinned wickedly and she’d let out a squeak and slid to the floor under the window. From then on she hid behind the net curtains when she dared to people-watch.

      ‘Once a week isn’t enough, darling,’ her mum interrupted her musings.

      ‘It’s hard. Everyone stares,’ George admitted reluctantly. Initially she’d been scared of moving to London; scared at the thought of leaving everything and everyone she knew behind, at the familiar becoming unfamiliar, but in the end realised that being back home in her old life wasn’t helping. That in a funny way, starting over might make things easier. But it was more difficult than she’d expected.

      ‘I’m sure not everybody does. Besides, London is a very big place; there are a lot of faces in it with their own stories.’

      ‘You’re probably right. But it’s still hard. Give me some credit for leaving the house, especially when you know how I feel about this,’ George pointed to her face.

      ‘All right, thank you for trying.’ Her mum shook her head, ‘But you’re still a gorgeous girl Georgiana, and anyone of any value will see past the physical damage.’

      George hugged her arms around her waist, staring at her unvarnished toenails. ‘Whatever you say.’

      There was a small tense silence before they both looked over at the puppy, who was now tugging on the edge of the duvet cover with a row of tiny, pointed teeth. His ears were pricked up and his tail was wagging. George smiled and switched her attention to her mum. ‘I’m sorry this has all been so disruptive for you.’

      Her mum sighed. ‘Darling, don’t apologise. Yes, we’ve both been cast back into roles we thought we’d left behind – you know I came to terms with you leaving home over two years ago, taking the promotion as Head of English, starting the OU course, but it’s fine. Life throws things at you sometimes that you have to deal with, and we’re dealing with it. I’m excited about my new job. Your dad got that transfer. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I’d made you leave straight after dinner that evening, or insisted you stay an extra night, anything to stop you being on that same strip of road with that poor lorry driver –,’ her voice broke and she stifled a sob, ‘but there’s no use torturing ourselves with things that can’t be changed.’

      George bit her lip, tears scorching her eyes. She’d not once been able to cry for herself over the last few months, but somehow her mum’s pain almost undid her. ‘I know that, Mum. It’ll be okay.’

      ‘It will.’ Stella nodded and pointed at the puppy, who’d managed to tear a small hole in the bedding through shaking his head and wiggling his body, splayed paws digging into the carpet. ‘So he’s staying. Enjoy him, have fun with him. But he’s your responsibility, so promise you won’t keep him in all the time.’ She clambered to her feet, gazing down at her daughter, who’d slid back to rest against the side of the bed. ‘You’ll take him for walks, won’t you?’

      George rolled her eye. She knew when she was beaten. ‘When I’m ready.’

      ‘Georgiana…’

      ‘Yes, okay, I will, I promise.’

      ‘Good. I’m going to go and finish unpacking. You should try and do some of yours too. Your bedroom’s a mess.’ Stella raised an eyebrow pointedly and swept from the room, clicking the door quietly shut behind her.

      George sat on the carpet, face burning. How did her mum still have the ability to make her feel like a child, when she’d been an adult for over three years? She felt seven years-old again, having just been told off for touching one of her mum’s prized ornaments or getting sticky chocolate fingers all over her dad’s extensive record collection. She’d planned to empty all the boxes and put everything away, it was just hard to summon the motivation or energy these days. Sighing, she swivelled her head around to find the puppy, and ran a hand down his back. His fur was so incredibly soft. He yipped and turned to look at her. ‘Looks like we’re stuck with each other,’ she chuckled, ‘but please, just give me a few more days before we venture out, okay?’ She tapped him gently on the nose, ‘A week would be perfect.’

      She didn’t get seven days, nowhere near.

      Because she was feeding him the puppy took an immediate shine to her, following her around adoringly, getting under her feet and tripping her up more than once. Her bruises, despite the plush carpets, had actually multiplied since his appearance because he wasn’t quick enough to get out of her way when she turned around. And without one eye, she had one hell of a blind spot. She smiled at her own joke. Maybe she was making progress.

      'Mum, the puppy’s going to kill me at this rate.’ She complained over dinner on the Monday night after his arrival. ‘I’ve fallen over him three times just this afternoon. And he yip-yaps at me every time I sit down. Can’t you or Dad take him for a while so I can have a break? Or better still, take him for a walk?’ she looked at her dad hopefully, noticing how he’d coordinated his glasses frames with his tie. ‘Nice match today, Dad.’

      ‘Sorry darling,’ her mum said firmly as Warren opened his mouth. ‘We’re both working full-time now and are tired in the evening, whereas you’re here all day. He loves you, just accept it. And stop trying to sweet-talk your dad into helping you.’

      ‘The puppy doesn’t love me,’ George said drily, ‘I feed him. There’s a difference.’

      ‘Not to dogs,’ her dad replied, smoothing his thinning brown hair off his forehead. His blue eyes were amused behind his glasses.

      ‘I guess not,’ she agreed. She bet his socks were odd again. It was a peculiarity; every work day he dressed so carefully, coordinating his suits, ties, glasses and cufflinks, but for some reason he never wore a matching pair of socks. ‘So what’s it today? Green and blue? Purple and grey?’

      Her dad shook his head.

      ‘Wait.’ George licked a finger and stuck it in the air, like she was testing the direction of the wind. ‘One red, one blue?’

      ‘Bingo,’ he nodded.

      Stella tutted, grabbing George’s finger to get her attention. ‘Stop trying to change the subject.’ She looked at her daughter sternly. ‘Have you walked him yet?’

      George wiggled her finger out of her mum’s grasp, pushing the plate of lasagne and garlic СКАЧАТЬ