The Family Friend C. MacDonald (reading comprehension books .txt) 📖

van swings round a pillar and she has to pull the buggy back towards her quickly to avoid it. The person in the parka crosses into a patch of sunlight and Erin sees a glint of burnt orange coming from below her hat. Erin’s eyes drop to the bottom of her coat and she sees a thin band of blue, the aquamarine that caught her attention at the supermarket’s entrance, poking out from underneath.

‘Amanda,’ she calls out, halfway between a shout and a whisper. Bobby stirs in his buggy. The woman stops. She doesn’t turn round immediately and it looks to Erin like she might try and run but eventually she turns, cheekbones rendered sharper by the shadows from the spotlight of sun she finds herself in, and raises a hand in greeting.

Erin observes the dark grey yoga pants she wears as she walks over to her.

‘Off to Pilates at Phoenix?’ Erin says, trying to sound casual. Amanda looks at her watch, eyes Bobby still sleeping in the buggy. ‘I saw Sophie in town on her way over.’

‘Yeh, that’s right,’ Amanda says. ‘I’ll be back home later if you want me to do some food.’ Erin puts her head to one side and stares at her, trying to drill into her lie, but it just makes Amanda smile wider. She spots a large tote bag hung over Amanda’s shoulder.

‘Can I have a look in your bag?’ Erin asks.

‘What?’

‘I want to have a look in your bag – can I?’ Erin crosses in front of the buggy. Amanda steps back, holding the bag further into her body.

‘Um, why?’ Amanda laughs.

‘You’re following me.’

‘What?’

‘You’re following me. You’ve been following me. For how long? A week? Two? Since you got here?’

‘I’m not –’

‘Sophie and Mercedes are going to HotPod yoga. There’s no Pilates at Phoenix today.’

‘I haven’t been following you.’

‘Show me what’s in your bag?’ Erin thrusts her hand out in front of her as she hems Amanda into the corner of the underground car park.

‘Shall we –’ Amanda points down the ramp that leads into town. ‘Doesn’t feel safe having Bobby here, the cars.’

‘Were you there, at the top of the cliffs yesterday, looking down on me on the prom?’ Erin knows she’s right. It’s Amanda. Of course it’s Amanda. The trolling started just after she arrived.

‘Erin, shall we just go down to –’

‘Someone’s been posting photos of me, videos of me and my baby on the Internet to make me look like a shit mum, to make me look like a fraud, an absolute psycho. And now you’re following me?’

‘It’s not what you think.’

‘So you are following me then?’ Amanda opens her mouth as if to speak then closes it. She smiles, ducks her head under the shade covering Bobby to look at him sleeping. Erin finds herself so enraged by it that she grabs at the handle of the bag on her shoulder. Amanda looks at her scared, both hands clutching the body of the tote. She looks around, for help perhaps, but the car park is deserted. Erin doesn’t care who sees. Amanda’s been following her. She’s practically admitted it. She’s the troll and Erin knows the proof is in the bag. It’s so heavy. There’s a camera in there. A lens. A massive smartphone at the very least. And she’s going to force Amanda to show her what’s on it, what pictures she’s been taking of her today ready to post up anonymously to besmirch her reputation further.

‘Go ahead,’ Amanda says, sliding the bag off her shoulder and into Erin’s hands. Now she has the bag it strikes her how aggressive she’s just been. All her certainty that Amanda is the troll has vanished as she rests the snatched bag on a low wall. Bobby shuffles around in his buggy and Amanda pulls his footmuff up so it covers his hands.

There’s no telephoto lens in the bag. Erin moves a pair of woollen gloves, a thin thread of a scarf, but most of the bag is dominated by a black velvet sack, clearly not a camera case. Erin swallows air as she pulls opens the string of the bag to reveal a mass of pink and white stones.

‘Rhodochrosite,’ Amanda says, standing over her shoulder. ‘I bought them from Marjoram’s shop. Keep looking though, see what else you can find.’ Erin sees an old flip phone at the bottom of the bag, but little else apart from a packet of what look like hippie throat sweets. She hands the bag back to Amanda.

‘Sorry,’ Erin mumbles.

‘Do you want to get home before he wakes up?’ Amanda asks, hoisting the bag back onto her shoulder, sadness in her eyes. Erin nods, riddled with shame. There was fear in the woman’s eyes. Erin knows that if Amanda had withheld the bag from her for another moment, she might have done something, pushed her, snatched it roughly out of her hand. Amanda starts to push the buggy and Erin doesn’t stop her.

‘I shouldn’t have lied about Pilates,’ Amanda says as they emerge into the light. ‘And I – you’re right.’ She stops next to the main road and lets several cars past. ‘I have been following you. For the last few days. But I’m not taking pictures of you. I haven’t even got a camera, there isn’t one on my phone, you saw.’ They cross the road together, onto an expanse of grass that leads down to the sea.

‘Why then?’ Erin asks, fists balled in the pockets of her mac.

‘I think, after Raf saw the video … he said he was worried about you.’

‘He’s always worried about me.’

‘He was worried about, about you with Bobby.’ Amanda’s words seem to block the top of Erin’s throat. ‘He said he might have to take some time off, to be with you and Bobby, during the day. He was really stressed about it, said you couldn’t afford for him not to be working at the moment. If it makes you feel any better he did say he