Everything is Beautiful Eleanor Ray (best manga ereader .TXT) 📖

the nape of his neck. She breathed in deeply. He smelt of freshly cut grass. She remembered sitting like this with Tim when her grandmother died. Tim had smelt of cigarette smoke, but the warmth of his neck felt the same as Richard’s. She closed her eyes, and pretended that the last eleven years hadn’t happened. That this was Tim sitting next to her, his arms around her. That he loved her. That she didn’t need pots. Or mirrors. Or mugs.

‘What on earth?’

Amy’s eyes flung open. Nina stood in the living-room doorway. Richard uncoiled himself from Amy. ‘Oh, hi there,’ he said. He stood up. ‘You saw what happened to Amy’s front garden? I was just—’

‘I can see that,’ said Nina.

‘’Scuse me,’ said Charles, banging into the back of Nina. He was carrying something heavy and set it on the floor with a thud.

‘What’s that dirty thing doing in my house?’ exclaimed Nina.

‘It’s not a dirty thing,’ said Charles. ‘It’s the lovely pot Amy gave us, with the pretty plant inside.’

‘Geranium,’ said Amy.

‘Exactly.’ He looked at her. ‘I know it was a present, but since yours were smashed I thought you might like to have it back for a bit.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Richard, grinning at his son. ‘Sometimes I think I haven’t done such a bad job of parenting after all.’ He laughed and tousled his son’s hair.

‘Strawberries too,’ said Daniel. He followed behind his brother, holding the little potted strawberry plants Amy had given them. Strawberry juice trickled down his chin. ‘Saved you one,’ he said, solemnly handing the plants to Amy.

‘Touching,’ said Nina, her face twisted.

‘We all like Amy,’ Charles told her. ‘Dad too.’

‘Charles,’ said Richard.

‘But it’s true,’ said Charles.

‘I can see that,’ said Nina.

‘Nina, you know that . . . ’ Richard’s voice trailed off.

‘I should be going,’ said Amy.

‘Amy is very upset, after someone broke her pots,’ continued Charles. Even Amy noticed the glacial look he gave Nina as he spoke.

‘What are you saying?’ asked Nina, her voice rising.

‘Nothing,’ said Richard. ‘Were you, Charlie?’

‘Nothing,’ repeated Charles, his voice as sweet as strawberries.

‘I have some clearing up to do,’ said Amy. ‘I’d better be going.’

‘We’ll help,’ said Richard.

‘You’ve done enough,’ said Amy.

‘Quite,’ added Nina.

Amy got up to leave. She hesitated as she walked past Nina, then placed a hand on her arm. ‘You’re lucky to have such lovely boys,’ she said.

Nina scowled at her. ‘I am,’ she replied.

Amy couldn’t help but feel she’d said the wrong thing.

Amy lay on the sofa. It felt better, sleeping down here. Not that there was much sleeping going on. But if something happened, if whoever it was came back, she’d be better able to protect her things.

Not her pots, they were beyond repair. Richard had been true to his word and had replanted her plants in plastic containers. The boys had diligently watered them with the little watering can she’d given them. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that, really, it was not the plants that mattered to her. It seemed strange that some people could be so kind while others destroyed beautiful objects for no reason.

No reason. Amy let those two words echo around her mind. No one else’s garden had been targeted. The cars on the street were untouched. What had she done to deserve this? Amy wondered if maybe she should have phoned the police. But if they weren’t interested in tracking down Tim, she doubted they’d have time to investigate some broken pots. Jack’s words circled in her mind again. Was it possible she’d brought this on herself?

It was ridiculous, she decided, to think it was anything other than vandals. Vandals breaking garden ornaments. She’d collected the pieces and they were stacked on the hallway floor, in the space vacated by the mail and the bottles she’d cleared out.

The bottles. They would still be sitting in Richard’s recycling, waiting to be taken away. Taken away for ever. Broken down. Smashed.

Amy realised she couldn’t bear to lose any more. She sat up and glanced at one of her few working clocks. The face shone in the moonlight, and Amy saw that it was past midnight. That didn’t matter. The recycling would be collected in the morning. She still had time.

Amy got to her feet and put on her slippers. She made her way carefully through the living-room path and grabbed a coat that hung on a hook in the hallway. The pieces of pots she’d collected were piled on the floor, framed by little halos of dirt. There were still lots of bottles and several stacks of newspapers, but all Amy could see was the space where the other bottles had been. She needed to have them all. She needed to save what she could.

She slipped her keys into her pocket and opened the front door.

A noise.

Amy froze. Were the vandals back, intent on finishing the destruction of her treasures? She almost closed the door again, but the image of the bottles flooded back to her. They would think they had been abandoned. She couldn’t bear it.

She stood at the door, listening. She heard a sound again, but it was soft. Foxes sniffing around the bins, she decided. Nothing to be scared of.

Amy stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Her things would be safe. The moon was bright and Amy walked down her garden path, trying not to look at the wilted plants lined up against the wall in their ugly plastic pots. She opened her gate and stepped onto the pavement. Her view of Richard’s garden was obscured by a privet hedge, but Amy knew he had two large wheelie bins that he kept in his front garden. One was dark grey, for rubbish. The other was a mossy shade of green and for recycling.

Amy stopped again. She heard another noise, a gentle creak. She stood by the hedge, peering through the leaves.

A pair of eyes peered back, shining in the moonlight. This was no fox.