by Val Thame
Then there was more hugging and lots of kissing. Mrs Blazer made more tea and they talked and talked and talked until, eventually, Goodrun said she had to go because Aunt Nettle would be wondering where she was, and she had such a lot to tell her.
“I suppose if Evilyn’s your half-sister she’s my half-cousin,” said Daisy, at the gate. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“Oh, er — she lives hundreds of miles away,” said Goodrun, hastily, and then with her fingers crossed she told a little white lie, “I hardly ever see her.”
“Never mind,” said Daisy. “School on Monday. I’m looking forward to it now because we can go together.”
Goodrun came down to earth for the second time that day, this time with a bump. School? But she did not need to go to school. She had finished with all that.
“I thought everything was going too well,” she sighed.
Evilyn had gone when she got back home and Nettle was dozing in an armchair. Before she closed the front door Goodrun looked up at the darkening summer sky. A solitary rain cloud was scudding past at great speed.
“Is that you, Evilyn? I hope you haven’t got anything to do with this school business?”
And Goodrun was sure she could hear someone cackling — or was it the wind in the trees?
