Free A Heartbeat Away by Eleanor Jones Page A

selfish act and the way he curled his lip at the mention of Mrs. Brown that clarified my feelings about my father. The sun shone as he walked jauntily off down the lane without so much as a backward glance, and my tears dried up. Perhaps now my mom would get well again.

CHAPTER 7
    I t wasn’t until Monday that Mrs. Brown found out my father had gone—and that was only because I told Daniel at school. All weekend my mom had sat in her chair, getting up only to go to the bathroom. She never even went to bed. I brought her laboriously prepared jam sandwiches, which she hardly touched, and cups of cold tea, because I wasn’t allowed to use the kettle. The fire stayed unlit, but the warmth of the sun kept our cottage warm, and I didn’t bother to wash, so there was no need for hot water. On Sunday I almost set off to walk to Homewood, but my mom looked so vacant that I was afraid she might do whatever it was that my grandma had done with the length of rope.
    I tried to read Aunt Violet’s letter, but there were only a few words I could understand, so I just sat and imagined how she might appear and waited for Monday and school and the comfort of being able to share all my fears with Daniel.
    Eventually, Mrs. Brown arrived at our cottage, and when I told her about my dad taking the money from the blue pot, her whole face turned red.
    â€œCome on, Mary,” she told my mother. “You are staying at Homewood until that sister of yours arrives on Friday.” I hadn’t known she’d be here so soon and my heart started to beat faster with excitement.
    Daniel told me that he had overheard his parents talking about my mom and me. It seemed they were afraid that if she became too ill to take care of me properly, then “they” might make me go and live in a home. I asked him who “they” were, and he said he couldn’t remember what his mother and father had called them, but it started with an A . Even curled up in my lovely warm soft bed at Homewood, I couldn’t get away from the fear that washed over me in waves when I thought about it. But that all stopped, of course, when my aunt Violet arrived, because, as Mrs. Brown said, she was family, so she had every right to look after me and no one could take me away from her.
    â€œBut I want to stay here with you,” I pleaded. Mrs. Brown held me close, pressing her cheek against my hair so that I felt very safe and very happy.
    â€œI only wish you could,” she told me. “And maybe one day you will, but it’s up to the authorities to decide where children live.”
    Authorities. That was the word for “them” that Daniel couldn’t remember.
    My mom seemed to get much better in the three days we stayed at Homewood. Mrs. Brown insisted that she eat her meals, and in the evenings she would encourage her out of her shell by talking to her all the time. At first my mom just ignored her, but by Wednesday she started to talk back. Just little things—a comment about something on TV, or once even a question about my dad. Mrs. Brown’s jaw set in a stern line when my dad’s name was mentioned and her soft brown eyes hardened. She said that we were all better off without him and we wouldn’t fret about the debts until my aunt arrived on Friday.
    â€œWho knows,” she told Mr. Brown with a lift of her eyebrows. “Maybe Mary’s sister will be the bearer of good news.”
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    Daniel and I climbed into our tree house on Thursday evening after supper to talk about Violet Gordon.
    â€œWhen you get home from school tomorrow, she will be at your house,” he said.
    I nodded nervously, unsure whether to be afraid or excited.
    â€œAnd don’t worry,” he told me. “If she’s horrid, you can come back and live here with us and maybe she can just look after your mom.”
    It was a dream that wasn’t to be, but the reality was not so bad—as I found when I