Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
And, now, I’m home, and I’m awaiting Anne’s arrival.
I’m all showered and ready, wearing my best mum clothes. I’ve gone for a calf-length powder-blue dress. It’s an old dress, but it’s nice, respectable. It has capped sleeves and a cute belt around the waist. My hair is tied back in a braid. I also put on a light dusting of makeup.
I’m good to go.
Cece is working until eight, so I’ve got the place to myself.
The good biscuits are set out on a plate on the coffee table in the living room. Tea is in the pot, and coffee is in the carafe on a tray. Cups are ready along with milk in a jug and sugar cubes in the pot.
I’m ready to show Anne that I’ve changed.
Even though I haven’t changed. Not really. Deep down, I’m the same person I’ve always been. Just a little less trusting than I used to be.
But Anne sees what she’s read on paper. She sees me as a thief and ex-con. A woman who kept the fact that her mother had run off and abandoned her kids a secret.
Social Services doesn’t see the good in my reasons. They don’t care that I worked my arse off to keep a roof over Jesse’s head and to put food in his belly. That, every single day, I made sure he knew how much he was loved.
Social Services doesn’t care about any of that.
All they see is a liar. A thief. And a criminal.
All because of Jason.
But I’m not going to go there. Today is going to be a good day.
I’m not going to think about that piece of shit.
I’m going to get Jesse back.
I’m going to show Anne the real Daisy—the responsible, reliable Daisy, who loves her brother like he’s her own kid. He is my kid. And I will do anything for him.
The doorbell rings, and a tremor of nerves runs through me. Standing from the sofa, I smooth my trembling hands down my dress and walk to the front door.
Pulling open the door, I see a woman on the other side. Looks to be in her fifties. Plump. Shoulder-length curly black hair. Kind face.
“Anne?” I’ve spoken to Anne many times on the phone, but I have never actually met her in person.
“Yes. And you must be Daisy. You and Jesse have the exact same eye color. Lovely.” She smiles.
Jesse and I both have amber eyes with flecks of hazel in them. In certain lights, it looks almost gold. It’s a fairly unusual eye color, one that we inherited from our dad.
It’s one of the things that I actually like about myself.
“Come in.” I smile, stepping back to let her in.
I shut the door and lead her straight into the living room. She takes a seat on the sofa, putting her huge bag on the floor next to her. I take a seat in the armchair across from her.
“Lovely place you have here.”
“Would you like a tour?” I offer.
“Tea first, if that’s okay.” She smiles. “I haven’t had a cuppa since lunch, and I’m dying for one.”
Smiling, I reach over and pour tea in a cup. “Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk, please.”
I pour the milk in, stir with the teaspoon, and hand it over to her. I pour myself a coffee, adding milk.
“Help yourself to biscuits,” I tell her.
She sips her tea. “Oh, lovely cup of tea,” she tells me.
I’ve always been told I make good tea even though I never drink it myself. I don’t know what I do when it comes to making tea that makes it taste so good. I guess I just have the tea touch.
I smile and sip my own coffee.
She puts her cup down on the table and reaches into her bag, pulling out a green folder. It has Jesse’s name on the front.
My heart beats just that little bit faster.
“So, how have you been finding things since you got out?” Anne asks me.
“Really good.” I smile, putting my own cup down on the table. “It’s nice, not having to shower with twenty other women.” Oh God, did I actually just say that? “I mean, it’s fine. Like I never left. Of course, it was a little strange at first—you know, being free—but living with Cece has really helped. She’s such a rock for me. And starting my new job, of course, has helped.” Stop talking. Stop talking now.
“How is the job going?”
I’m so nervous that I’m actually starting to sweat.
“Really great.” Aside from my bipolar boss. “I’m really enjoying it.”
“You’re working at”—she pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and looks at it—“the Matis Estate, as a maid.”
“That’s right.” I clasp my hands together in my lap.
I don’t want to talk about my job. I want to talk about Jesse. But I need to let her take the lead here.