Free The Foreshadowing by Marcus Sedgwick Page A

trolley on to the ward.
    I feel let down. Of course it’s good that Evans is better, and I feel guilty for even thinking this, but when everyone thought he was crazy I thought I had found one person who I could confide in. And now he denies we ever spoke of such things.
    If I only took heart from a discussion with a man while he was mad, what does that say about me?

65

    Tom and I went Christmas shopping today. It didn’t feel quite right, because Edgar won’t be home this year. Nonetheless, we must try to make Christmas as normal as possible.
    After a fruitless and tiring morning we decided that parents are impossible to buy presents for, and took a shortcut down one of the twittens that runs off Middle Street, to shelter in a small café in the Lanes, even though it’s an area of town Father doesn’t like us to visit.
    We ordered buttered toast and tea, and hidden away in a corner by the window, I felt safer and happier than I had for a long time. I had been occupied at the hospital, but with Tom, I felt truly safe. But tired too, and told him so.
    “Why?” he asked.
    “There’s been so much going on.”
    “At the hospital?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    I stopped.
    “There must be a lot to learn. Some of it must be pretty horrible, too.”
    I nodded, and sipped my tea.
    I looked out the window at the narrow, twisting passages of the Lanes. I could see a small slit of sky above the rooftops. It seemed likely to rain again soon.
    “Are you all right?” Tom asked.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “But are you enjoying it?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t thought about it like that. But yes, I suppose I am.”
    He stretched a hand across the table to mine.
    “Then what’s wrong?”
    I didn’t answer.
    “What’s wrong, Sasha? I can tell something’s getting to you. You’re different from when I went away. Is Father being mean?”
    I shook my head.
    “No more than usual.” I smiled. “In fact, he’s been quite generous at times.”
    “So what is it?”
    I looked at my brother, and then looked away. He was so kind to me, he always had been, and he was open-minded and clever. If there was one person I could talk to, it was him.
    I squeezed his hand briefly, then pushed it away.
    “I’m fine,” I said. “Do you want some more tea?”
    He was the one person who might believe me, but if he, of all people, reacted the way everyone else had, it would hurt more than I could bear.

64

    When we got home, we found Mother and Father in the drawing room. They had a visitor: Miss Garrett.
    Mother forced a smile as we came in.
    “Miss Garrett stopped by to see you,” she said, but Father cut across her.
    “To have a talk about your studying,” he said. I looked from Mother to Miss Garrett, who seemed uncomfortable.
    “Sit down, Alexandra,” Father said. “Tom?”
    Tom shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, then backed out, nodding to Miss Garrett and closing the door behind him.
    “Mother?” I said, and felt very small.
    Mother looked at her hands and then at Father.
    “We understand that your work has been poor recently,” Father said.
    “I only said—” Miss Garrett began, but Father interrupted.
    “We are very disappointed.”
    It all started to come out then.
    “Alexandra, you’re an intelligent girl,” Mother said.
    “But you’ve been so distracted lately,” Miss Garrett said.
    I couldn’t think what to say; I knew it was true.
    “Miss Garrett says you borrowed a book from her,” Father said. “Will you please go and get it.”
    I hesitated, wondering what all this was about.
    “Sasha. Please.” Mother said.
    She looked so upset I wanted to shake her, but I went and got the book. Father took it from me and glanced through it.
    “Why did you want this book when you haven’t been paying attention?”
    I frowned.
    “I wanted to read the stories,” I said. “I thought I’d better make an effort to catch up.”
    “The Trojan Wars?” Father said. “Achilles? Ajax? Helen and