Free Eva's Journey by Judi Curtin Page B

that’s OK.’
    Why would anyone choose to work on their own, when they could be working with a friend who’d do at least half the work?
    It was like Ruby could read my mind.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Eva,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but … I’m a very busy person … I don’t really have time for friends. Don’t take it personally, OK?’
    That was just about the weirdest thing anyone had ever said to me.
    How could anyone be too busy for friends?
    Ruby must have some very time-consuming hobbies.
    While I was still thinking of a reply, Ruby had picked up her bag and was gone.
    The next day I sat next to Ella again, and we did our project together.
    And so another week passed by in a flurry of small acts of kindness that didn’t seem to be getting me anywhere closer to my dream.

Chapter Fifteen
    O n Saturday morning, Mum handed me five euro. Before I could get excited, she said,
    â€˜Go to the market in Bridge Street, and buy me some apples and bananas.’
    I gasped like she’d asked me to go to the moon.
    â€˜The market?’ I repeated. ‘What’s wrong with Johann? Is he sick?’
    (Johann was the man who delivered a big box of organic fruit and vegetables to our house every week. He was really nice, and in the summer, he always brought extra strawberries because he knew I loved them.)
    Mum sat down, and I braced myself for a speech.
    â€˜Darling, you do understand how bad things arefinancially?’
    Why would I understand?
    She’d only told me about ten thousand times?
    â€˜But you said we had to cut out luxuries,’ I protested. ‘And I’m OK with that – well not OK exactly, but at least I understand where you’re coming from. But surely fruit isn’t a luxury?’
    Mum gave a sad smile.
    â€˜Welcome to the real world, darling. In the real world, not everyone gets their fruit delivered by a nice Dutch man in a pretty green van with flowers painted on the side. And I’m afraid we can’t afford it any more either.’
    â€˜But the market?’ I said again. ‘Why can’t I go to the supermarket, where normal people shop?’
    She sighed.
    â€˜Even in the supermarket, fruit is expensive. And Gemma next door shops in the market all the time. She tells me that fruit there is a lot cheaper, and it’s lovely and fresh too.’
    I knew there wasn’t any point in arguing. My mum, who never used to mind spending hundredsof euro on a handbag, was becoming an expert on saving a few cents here and there.
    So, feeling a bit like Little Red Riding Hood, I set off for the market, hoping with all my heart that I wouldn’t meet any wolves on the way.

    It was a lovely sunny day, and the market was crowded. Everyone seemed happy as they wandered by, laden with bunches of flowers and newspaper-wrapped parcels. After a while, I found a stall selling fruit and vegetables. There were crowds of people waiting to buy.
    â€˜Why is it so slow?’ asked a big wide man who was standing in front of me.
    â€˜It’s always like this,’ said the woman next to him. ‘The poor girl who is running the stall is on her own. I don’t know how she manages.’
    Who cared about the stall-holder?
    How was I supposed to manage?
    I’d never bought stuff that wasn’t already packed up in plastic bags with labels on them.
    How was I supposed to figure out how muchfruit I could buy with my five euro?
    Should I keep buying one apple and one banana at a time until my money ran out?
    And how popular would that make me with the people behind me in the queue?
    While I was still trying to decide what to do, the big man in front of me moved away, and I found myself standing right at the front of the fruit stall. The sun was shining in my eyes, and I blinked to make sure that I was seeing correctly. After a few blinks I was sure – I’d know that long brown hair anywhere –