Glitter. Kate Maryon

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СКАЧАТЬ target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_cfddab43-494d-5c37-8100-6cc25e107230">Chapter 3 a glittering success…

      “My summer was rubbish,” I tell Alice while we’re unpacking our trunks and settling back into school for the start of the autumn term. “My dad just dumped me in our French house for the whole ten weeks with strict instructions that I had to do at least four hours’ school work every day. My granny wasn’t well so he hired this scary dragon woman with whiskers on her chin to look after me and he didn’t bother to come and see me, not even once. He kept phoning and saying he’d be over soon so we could go out on the boat. But he never even did. He just got more and more stressed and snappy on the phone as the weeks went by. Apparently something big was happening at work again, and he said it was too impossible to leave. Lucky Sebastian was off jet-skiing with a friend so I didn’t get to see him either. Boring is an understatement, Alice. I had nothing to do but work, work, work, apart from the pool I suppose, but that’s not much fun on your own. Sometimes I think my dad forgets I’m still a child.”

      “My summer was terrible too,” sighs Alice, lying back on her bed. “My parents just bickered the whole time we were in Greece. I sometimes wonder why they even stay married. I mean, plenty of parents get a divorce. I don’t know what the big deal is.”

      “Parents have strange ideas,” I say. “I tried to talk to Sebastian about my mum and about what happened to her when we were out buying our uniforms. I wanted to see if there’s an actual reason behind the fact that my dad won’t let me play the violin. But he said he doesn’t remember anything about her, except her red hair and a tune that she used to play to him while he was drifting off to sleep.”

      “That’s so sad,” says Alice. “I can’t imagine what it would be like without my mum.”

      “I wish I could remember something about her,” I say. “I wonder if she ever played a tune to me?”

      When we’ve unpacked and had our tea and sat through a house meeting and shared summer stories and welcomed the new girls, Alice and I sneak out of our window and on to the flat roof to look at the sky. Above us is a soft glittering blanket that twinkles through the darkness and wraps us up in stars.

      “I’m so glad to be back,” I whisper.

      “Me too,” says Alice.

      “Whoever invented the stars,” I say, “truly was a glittering success. Can you imagine what it would be like to fly through them and feel them glittering all about you?”

      “Of course a person didn’t invent them, Libby,” says Alice snuggling in close, “but imagine if they had. They would be the most popular and richest person in the world.”

      “No, Alice,” I giggle, “your dad is the richest person in the world. Well, not like kings and princes, but he is rich.”

      “Your dad too,” she says.

      “I suppose so,” I sigh. “It’s just I don’t really see the point of it when he’s not happy and enjoying it. He’s so moody and stressed all the time, who cares how much money he has? My dad wouldn’t know how to enjoy himself if it came and bit him on the nose. That’s what my granny says.”

      “Daddy says things are changing,” says Alice. “He says the banks have more debts than they have money.”

      “What does that mean?” I ask.

      “Don’t know really,” she says. “He just says that things will change. But we don’t need to worry about anything, Libby, nothing will happen to us, silly.”

      Having a best friend like Alice is as amazing as my school. I mean having a best friend full stop is brilliant, but for me it means I always have someone I can share my feelings with, someone I can trust. I know that whatever happens in our lives Alice will be there for me and I will be there for her. That’s how it is with us, it’s simple. Alice is also very good at telling me the truth, even when it hurts.

      “Can you try not to dump your feelings on me this term, Libby. We’re nearly twelve and that’s too old for lashing out.”

      “I’ll try,” I say. “It’s just sometimes I can’t help it. It must be my red hair.”

      “The colour of your hair is no excuse, Libby, you have to take responsibility for your feelings.”

       Chapter 4 everything is really all my fault…

      Three weeks later I’m sitting in a maths lesson with my mind half drifting out of the window when a prefect knocks on our door and tells our teacher that I have to go to the headmaster’s office straight away. I am completely sure that I haven’t done anything wrong or bad enough to need a trip to see Mr Jenkins, our headmaster, for a telling off, but anyway I’m careful to pull up my socks and straighten my tie before knocking on his door. “Yes,” booms his throaty voice, “come on in.” I turn the big brass handle, step inside and am surprised to see my dad sitting on one of Mr Jenkins’s black leather chairs. He’s looking all red faced and flustered and Sebastian is there as well, pacing about the room in tears. My heart dives into my tummy like a cold hard pebble and bounces straight back up again and lodges in my throat.

      “What’s happened?” I ask, immediately leaping to the conclusion that somebody we know has died or that Sebastian only got a B for his science homework or something terrible like that.

      “Come and sit down, Liberty,” says Mr Jenkins. “I’m afraid your father has some rather upsetting news.”

      But I don’t sit down. Because how can you sit down when the tension in the room is making you worried that your ears are about to hear some ultra-upsetting news. My dad looks terrible. He clearly hasn’t shaved for a few days and he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten for weeks. I hover nearby without getting too close. I never know with my dad when he might unexpectedly bark some random command at me and make my feelings hurt. The headmaster coughs as a polite way of reminding my dad that it’s his turn to speak now.

      “Liberty, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” whispers my dad, running his hand through his untidy hair. I’m shocked because I’ve never heard my dad speak so quietly before. His voice usually booms around the room, deafening my ears, but now he sounds like someone’s just let the air out of him and there’s nothing left for talking. “The business has collapsed, Liberty,” he says. “I’ve hung on for months and months trying to keep it all going but now I’ve hit rock bottom, the official receiver has been called in and we’ve become victims of the credit crunch.”

      Then he looks at me like I know what all that means, which, of course, I don’t. I mean I’ve heard of the credit crunch and everything and things closing down all over the place, because whoever on this planet hasn’t. That was what Alice was saying her dad was talking about. He said things would change and he was right, but what has any of that got to do with me? Then Sebastian explodes.

      “What he’s trying to say, Libby,” he steams, “is that we’ve lost everything. And I mean, everything! All the houses, all the cars, the boat, all the shares and every last penny in the bank.”

      “Oh,” I say, still not really understanding, but knowing that something has gone terribly wrong. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” And suddenly it’s like the word ‘sorry’ has been touched by the edge of a lighted СКАЧАТЬ