Free A Place in the Country by Elizabeth Adler Page A

bedcovers. “Well, I am your mother, and like it or not, I’m all you’ve got. And I’ve gotten you this far in life without deserting you.”
    â€œLike my father, you mean?” Issy glared at her, her face red, her eyes angry. “May I remind you, Mother, you left him . I, did not. You took me with you because you didn’t want him to have me. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted out and you used me. So now I’m stuck.”
    She clutched the cat even tighter, but it sensed conflict and struggled free. “See, even the fuckin’ cat can’t stand me,” Issy yelled.
    Caroline sank onto the bed next to her, but Issy pulled away and turned her back.
    Caroline got up and went and sat on the chair. She put her hands to her face. She could not cry. She must not cry. She was the strong one, the responsible one, the mother.
    Blind Brenda went and sat at Caroline’s feet. She picked her up then went to lie down next to Issy. She pushed the little cat over the bump of Issy’s back, saw her arm reach out to hold it.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Caroline said softly. “Trust me, baby, I love you. I know you’re almost grown up but you’re still my girl. I don’t mean to treat you like that, it’s just that…” She sighed, thinking of what to say, how to say it … “It’s just that I’m a mom. I’m learning on the job. It’s the only way moms know. I can only hope I’m doing the right thing. I believe I’m doing the right thing, but you must understand, I have to at least try. I can’t depend on your father, I have to look after you. Won’t you at least give me a chance?”
    A tiny meow broke the silence. Issy’s back unstiffened and she sat up. She said, “Oh my God, Mom! Blind Brenda spoke ! Her first meow !”
    And then she turned over and hid her face in her mother’s shoulder and cried.

 
    chapter 16
    The barn was finally cleared out; the black-varnished beams were stripped. They smelled of whatever was used to remove the paint before they were sandblasted, which would cause another mountain of dust, similar to, though possibly not as large, as the one Georgki was creating every evening when he blasted the stone walls clean of ancient grout and filth and a great many spiders, for which Caroline was deeply thankful. She would rather face a dragon than a spider, especially in bed at night with bare feet.
    He was enveloped in a sort of canvas shroud with a visor covering his head and shoulders. He looked like a moving tent, blaster held out in front, a fine spray of dirt and old stone drifting round him like a cloud.
    Caroline stood, arms folded, in the open doorway. The doors themselves had been removed and were propped against the outbuilding, currently known as “the cottage.” She had to get back to the pub where she was expected to cook steak pies.
    Georgki pushed up his plastic visor and said to her, “We go out tonight. There is pub in Pangbourne. On river. Swans. You’ll like. And they do good food, in a basket. I buy wine.”
    From under the up-tilted visor, he gave her a smile of beaming sweetness and she realized he was asking her out on a date. “Pangbourne is a long way, the other side of Oxford,” she said quickly. “In Buckinghamshire.”
    â€œOxfordshire. I know for certain.”
    â€œHmmm, right, well … actually, Georgki, I’m supposed to work tonight. Remember? I have a job? Tell you what though, why don’t you come to the pub later and I’ll fix you one of my chicken pot pies. My treat.”
    She saw his big shoulders droop under his tent and hated herself for doing it. “Tell you what,” she said, “tomorrow, I’ll bring a picnic. We can eat it here, just you and me. I’ll bring the wine you like…”
    â€œBeer,” Georgki said quietly. “Remember I like beer.”
    Of course