Free Alana Oakley by Poppy Inkwell Page A

ready for her first Real Date in seventeen years, with a man she met only a week ago, who looked like a male model …
    Emma felt sick.
    Five minutes later, Katriona and Ling Ling were pounding on the door of her office, where Emma huddled under the covers of her new futon. Her heart was racing and she was finding it hard to breathe. She looked around at her familiar surroundings and listed them in her head for comfort. Desk covered with reference books, papers and last night’s dishes. Okay, she conceded, last week’s dishes. Check. Computer. Check . Extra-large, green Christmas tree, covered with ornaments, and random scraps of paper with Ideas for Articles. Check . Bookshelves with favourite novels, family photo albums and more reference titles. Check . Essential-oils air freshener for Calm and Relaxation. Check . (She took a quick sniff. No change. Damn.) Claypot. Never used. Check . Pressure cooker. Used once but stopped after it acted like a rocket. Check . Food processor. Not used after almost lost a finger. Check . Her eyes continued their path around the room and settled on a book. Teenage Terrorism by Dr Oliver Gray. Emma kicked it out of sight with a squeal.
    â€œEmma, open the door!” Katriona yelled.
    â€œI need to touch up your hair,” Ling Ling cried.
    Emma felt her hair. It was already starting to puff up.
    â€œI know it’s doing that poufy thing again,” Ling Ling added.
    â€œI’m not coming out,” Emma yelled. “I’m not doing it. I can’t do it. You can’t make me!” she cried, smearing off the carefully applied lipstick, running frantic fingers through her hair, and slipping back into her tatty nightie with a mixture of relief and defiance.
    The door reverberated as the pounding resumed with more urgency. It bounced on its hinges. Thud. Thud. Thud .
    â€œAre you okay?” Emma heard a small voice at her elbow. It was Alana. Katriona and Ling Ling had forgotten about the second entrance to the room. Alana made her way towards her mum the same way a veterinarian approaches an injured animal. Emma, with her racoon eyes and a slash for a mouth, held out her arms. Alana dove into them and squeezed.
    Thud. Thud. Thud .
    Ping-pong pealed the doorbell.
    Thudthudthudthudthudthud.
    Emma and Alana looked at each other. Emma gave a tiny nod. Alana opened the office door. It was Katriona. Ling Ling was peering through the peephole of the front door.
    â€œHe’s here,” they heard Ling Ling cry.
    Katriona’s shocked gasp brought Ling Ling running into the office like a streak of sunshine.
    â€œ Wah lao, eh! ” (Oh no!) she cried. “Why like that?”
    Emma shook her head. “I can’t do it. Tell him I’m sick. But not too sick,” she said, biting her lip. “Nothing so contagious that he won’t want to see me again.” Ling Ling made to go. She grabbed at Ling Ling’s arm. “But nothing I can recover from too quickly.” Emma sagged like a sail that had lost its wind. “I’m just … not ready.”
    The doorbell rang a second time.
    Ling Ling wrenched her arm away and rushed to the front door. She put one curly, fake eyelash to the hole in the door. “Wah seh! So handsome, loh,” she said, her voice heavy with disappointment.
    â€œReally?” Katriona smoothed her hair. “How handsome?”
    â€œVery, very handsome. Sayang,” she muttered, staring at Emma darkly. “What a waste!” Just as quickly, Ling Ling calmed down as she took charge of the situation. She was a Shu, wasn’t she? Hadn’t her ancestors survived the Wall Street crash of 1929? She could do this.
    â€œAiyah, I will handle it.” Ling Ling gave a quick spray of the essential oil (for Calm and Relaxation), behind her ears, under her arms, and a final squirt in her mouth for good measure. She opened the door wide, mouth pursed like a prune. “Hi hi! You must be Dr Gray.