Free Summer Of My Secret Angel by Anna Katmore Page B

me.
She’d never come to our small flat in Cambridge when I still lived
with my mother, nor had Charlene ever mentioned a sister in France.
I knew nothing about Marie and wondered how much more she knew of
me.
    Another rumble started in my gut.
Embarrassed, I pressed my fist to my stomach and wished it would
just shut up. My aunt flashed an understanding grin. I didn’t care
for it. But it would have been a shame to throw away the delicious
smelling food now that she’d already heated it. I pinched the puff
pastry from the plate and nibbled at one end. The flavors exploded
in my mouth. It was a crime not to lick my lips free of any crumbs
that remained.
    Happy that I was eating, Marie nodded. When
the kettle on the marble counter gave a short beep, she placed a
palm to my cheek for the briefest moment. Her hand was gone too
quickly for me to even think about flinching from her touch.
    “I will take this cup to your mother.” My
aunt poured steaming water into a mug and dipped a tea bag in and
out. “Then we can start with la tour .”
    I nodded while I took another small bite
from the pastry. A couple minutes later, the snack was gone and I
waited for Marie’s return. Three minutes stretched into five. What
kept her away so long? After all, my mother’s room was just around
the corner.
    Tracing the geometrical line of triangles
along the plate’s brim kept me occupied for another minute or two.
I chewed on my lower lip. How rude that she could forget about me
in such a short time. No voices in the hallway or footfalls
announced her return. The tap-tap-tap of my shoe against the
warm terracotta tiles on the floor was the only sound cutting the
eerie silence. Bored now, I pushed to my feet and carried the plate
over to the sink; it took a minute to wash up.
    “I see you are already making yourself
useful,” Aunt Marie chimed behind me.
    I whipped around and met her delighted gaze
in the doorway.
    She took the plate from my hands to store
the saucer away in a cupboard above my head. “Come. It is time to
see your new home.” Soft hands on my shoulders shoved me out
through the door.
    The living room on the opposite side of the
hallway was partly walled with panes facing west. Gorgeous sunlight
filtered through. A grand piano in front of the windowpane
dominated the room. According to the set of sheet music on the
stand, the glamorous instrument was actually used. My fingers
brushed over the ivory keys chiming three dissonant notes as I
walked by.
    Next to an open fireplace, a big grandfather
clock ticked in a hypnotic rhythm. It took me into a past, where
the sound of a clock had provided my only comfort at night. My hand
lifted to my left elbow, an injury that had long since healed. I
pushed the memory away.
    After I finished my walk around the room,
Marie showed me their bedroom and my uncle’s study, the one room
I’d gotten a sneak peek into earlier.
    When I stepped out into the hallway again,
the front door tempted me as it stood ajar. A warm breeze beckoned
me to take the chance and break free. Maybe, if I could catch Marie
in an unaware moment and make a dash for the exit, I would get
enough of a head-start to find a hiding place in the woods we had
passed on the way here. In the dark I’d travel back to the airport
and somehow manage to get a flight back to London.
    Hands shoved into my empty pockets, I
abandoned the idea of escape. With no money, the journey home would
be more of an adventure than I cared for. A snort came over my lips
as my mind worked hard on another solution.
    “This is our bathroom. You can take a look
as well if you like.” Marie stepped in front of me and ruined my
hope for freedom.
    She knew what I was thinking.
    For now it was best to follow her. Later,
when I had a few minutes to myself, I’d make a detailed plan of my
bid for freedom.
    The only downstairs room I didn’t get to see
was my mother’s. Fine with me. I’d be happy as long as the dragon
remained inside her hole