Читать книгу Five Quarters of the Orange / Пять четвертинок апельсина онлайн

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Words like spilled cards sliding. I laughed harder. The terror in me grew, but I could not control my laughter, and even when they had gone – the screech of their Mercedes’ tires oddly furtive in the night – I still felt the occasional spasm, souring into half – sobs as the adrenaline fell from me, leaving me feeling shaken and old.

So old.

Pistache was looking at me, her face unreadable. Prune’s face appeared round the bedroom door.

“Mémée? What’s wrong?”

“Go to bed, sweetheart.” said Pistache quickly. “It’s all right. It’s nothing.”

Prune looked doubtful.

“Why was Mémée shouting?”

“Nothing.” Her voice was sharp now, anxious. “Go to bed!”

Prune turned reluctantly. Pistache closed the door.

We sat in silence.

I knew she’d talk when she was ready, and I knew better than to rush her. She looks sweet enough, but there’s a stubborn streak in her all the same. I know it well; I have it too. Instead I washed the dishes and the cups, dried them and put them away. After that I took out a book and pretended to read.