Free The Great Ice-Cream Heist by Elen Caldecott

from escaping.
    Now the space was dark, with a seam of light running up the centre of the doors where they didn’t quite meet. Once Mum had gone to a 1940s fancy-dress party with her hair set in a victory roll. She had painted her legs with fake tan and asked Eva to draw a line on the back of her calves. Mum said they’d done that during the war to make people believe they could afford stockings. The straight, thin seam of light made Eva think about that now.
    When Mum was here, they were always dressing up and putting on plays or dances to make Dad and Gran laugh. Eva had done all the silly voices and Mum had made up the steps. They didn’t use scripts, because Mum knew exactly how hard it was for Eva to read and how much it hurt Eva to try and then fail. Instead, they just worked it out. And it always worked out.
    Eva reached up and touched the dress above her. She couldn’t tell what colour it was, but the fabric was light and summery.
    It wasn’t fair.
    Nothing was fair.
    Eva had a horrible broken-inside feeling. As if she were made of glass and something inside her had shattered. She realised that she had tears on her cheeks. She dashed them away.
    Eva pulled the dress from its hanger and sat in the dimness, hugging it tight.
    Outside, Jamie would be waiting for her on the shed.
    He could wait. She wasn’t going to join him.
    She heard Dad’s key in the door.
    â€˜Eva?’ he called up the stairs. ‘Are you home?’
    She dropped the dress and spilled out of the wardrobe. He wouldn’t like her being in there. It made him sad to remember all Mum’s things hidden away in their own room. She moved quickly out of the spare room and on to the landing.
    â€˜Hi, I’m here.’
    â€˜I heard about the lodge – are you OK?’
    His footsteps were heavy as he came upstairs.
    â€˜Hey, Ladybug,’ he said. ‘Come here.’ Dad wrapped his arms round her tight. She leaned into him, her arms loose round his neck. The tears came properly now; the sobs shook her shoulders.
    â€˜Hush, it’s OK,’ he whispered. ‘It’s all OK. What happened was horrible, but it isn’t the end. We can fix up the lodge, better than it was before. Hush, Bug.’
    His hand patted her shoulder blades.
    Eventually, her sobs slowed and became sniffs. How could she tell him that it wasn’t the vandalised lodge that was making her cry? She was crying because Jamie didn’t care that it had been.
    She was crying because she didn’t know Jamie at all.
    â€˜Come on, let’s wash your face and get you something nice and sugary to drink. Hot chocolate? I know it isn’t Sunday, but we could have it anyway, as a special treat.’
    Eva nodded limply.
    Dad helped her to stand. He took her face in his hands and wiped the tear-tracks with his thumbs. ‘Right then. Go and wash your face and I’ll see you in the kitchen, OK?’
    Eva nodded.
    She was alone. Before going to the bathroom, she went to her own room. She didn’t get too close to the window – she didn’t want to be spotted – but she got close enough to peep out.
    He was there.
    Jamie was waiting on top of the shed, on his back, staring up at the sky.
    She felt a twinge in her chest.
    How long would he wait? Hoping she’d come? Would he give up and go back to his stinking rotten family? Or would he come and call for her and make her tell him why she hadn’t showed up?
    She wasn’t sure which would be worse.
    She went to wash her face.
    Tonight she was going to sit, safe and sound with her dad, drinking hot chocolate and watching telly. Things would be just exactly the same as they were before stupid Jamie arrived.
    They had to be.
    Dad was waiting downstairs. He took in her scrubbed cheeks and her best attempt at a smile. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
    â€˜It’s horrible when you find out that people can let you down,’ he said. ‘But