Free The Summer of Secrets by Sarah Jasmon Page A

sea.’ Helen forced a smile into her voice. ‘I’ll get you a captain’s hat for Christmas.’
    They sat in silence for a while, the weight of Mick’s thoughts an almost palpable mass. Helen made a decision.
    ‘I’ll be down at the cottage.’
    Mick lifted a hand slightly as if in assent. As she went outside and through the gate, her feet picked up speed, lightened by relief at her escape.
    The hedges bordering the lane seemed to have doubled in size from the rain. Even the fringe of cow parsley had lifted up into another burst of creaminess. She couldn’t help but feel the optimism. As she reached the end, the sight of the canal made her stop in her tracks. The morning sun had risen into a perfectly clear sky, and the surface of the water was as smooth as she’d ever seen it. It reflected back the blueness without even the hint of a ripple, and the inverted trees stretched downwards with every detail as sharp in the mirror image as it was in the original. Maybe the canal wasn’t really a channel of water, dug out by humans; perhaps it was a portal, the upside-down world as real as the one she stood in.
    The thought of what the Helen below ground might be doing took her round the corner and into the garden. She couldn’t remember why she’d been worried about coming back. There was a book lying on the grass beneath the apple tree, and she went over to pick it up.
Little Women
. A tiny unripe apple landed on her head.
    ‘About time you got here. I dropped that ages ago.’
    Victoria was sprawling along the length of the lowest branch, one hand out towards her. Helen stopped, caught between her private story and the reality of Victoria being so normal. She’d momentarily forgotten why she was bothered about turning up, and the sense of something unfinished floated around her like a mote in the sun before disappearing in among the shade of the branches. She made a show of studying the cover.
    ‘I don’t think this is on the list.’
    ‘I know.’ Victoria yawned. ‘I needed something easy to make up for that other one you made me read.’
    ‘I’ve nearly finished
War and Peace
. You can have that.’
    Victoria groaned as she swung herself down, arms laced around the branch, and landed neatly on the ground.
    ‘More Russians, that’s what I need.’ She took the book from Helen’s hand and turned it over to examine the picture of the four girls. ‘You know, I didn’t enjoy this as much as I remembered.’ She flicked through the pages, stopping to study one of the illustrations before slamming it shut. ‘It does make me want to make something, though. They’re always being creative. Painting pictures and sewing things. I feel like being an artist.’ She chucked the book back down on the grass. ‘You can be my model.’
    They were in the kitchen. Helen sat as still as possible, head side on to Victoria. Seth was sitting beyond the looped-up curtain in the living room, his head bent over a large sketchbook. He frowned in concentration at whatever he was working on as she studied him, trying to decide who he resembled. Victoria, definitely, though neither of them was noticeably like Alice. She pictured the face of their father from the poster. They had the same nose, even the same jaw if you ignored the drummer’s sideburns.
    Seth sat back to study what he had done, his hand tapping the tabletop. He had long fingers, the square nails blunt and oddly pleasing, and she had a rush of feeling as she noticed other details: a tiny mole below his ear, the slight difference in the colour of his skin where he shaved. What would it be like to run her fingertips along the edge of his face?
    He shifted his head as if he sensed her gaze and she felt her cheeks grow warm, but his eyes travelled past her. He stood up, and came through, walking round to see Victoria’s sketch.
    ‘You’re making into a Roman centurion. She’s not got a right angle on her nose.’
    Victoria ripped the page from her pad, screwing it up