Brightwood by Tania Unsworth Page B

jetty, and then hauled himself out onto dry land.
    Daisy stepped out from behind the Hunter so suddenly that the man staggered back with surprise.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” he said, advancing towards her. “This is private property.”
    Now that the moment had come to say something, Daisy couldn’t summon a single word. Apart from her mum, she had never been near a real, living person in her whole life. The man was so close she could see into his eyes. They were light blue and she couldn’t stop staring at them. It wasn’t their color; it was that there was so
much
color. The black bits in the middle—the pupils—were barely any larger than pinholes.
    They reminded Daisy of something, although she didn’t know what it was.
    â€œHow did you get in?” the man demanded.
    Daisy had no good answer for this. She had gotten in by being born. But that seemed so obvious that it felt stupid to point out. She had taken all night to come into the world, and there had been nobody in the house to help her mum. When she’d finally arrived, her mum had cried. Not because she was sad, but because she was so happy. It was the happiest moment of her whole life, she said.
    â€œAre you deaf?” the man said. “What’s your name?”
    â€œDaisy,” she whispered.
    â€œWhat did you say?”
    â€œDaisy. Daisy Fitzjohn.”
    He stared at her. “That’s not true,” he said. “There’s no such person.”
    â€œThere is,” Daisy said. “It’s me.”
    â€œI don’t believe you.”
    Daisy felt tears pricking at her eyes. She didn’t understand why he was questioning her. “It
is
me,
”
she insisted. “I live here. There’s a picture of me in the hallway. My mum painted it.”
    The man said nothing. His pale eyes were expressionless and his big hands hung loosely by his side.
    â€œHow old are you?” he said at last in a low voice.
    â€œEleven.”
    â€œEleven? It’s not possible.” He paused. “Unless . . . ”
    â€œWho else lives here?” he asked. “Who looks after you?”
    Daisy didn’t know why he seemed so agitated.
    â€œIt’s just us,” she said. “Just me and my mum.” There was no stopping her tears now. “Do you know where she is?” she cried out. “Do you know why she hasn’t come back?”
    He was silent, watching her.
    â€œNo,” he said at last. “I don’t know where she is.”
    â€œThen . . . why did you come?”
    â€œI was just passing by,” the man said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
    â€œYou broke the lock on the gates!” Daisy protested.
    He didn’t seem to have heard her. He gazed at her thoughtfully. The sun came out, evaporating the mist on the lake, and the man’s face darkened in the sudden shadow of the Hunter.
    â€œWhere do you go to school?” he asked.
    â€œIn the ballroom,” Daisy said.
    â€œThe ballroom?”
    â€œMy mum teaches me. We’re learning about the Romans . . . ”
    â€œBut you do go out? To the doctor for checkups or to play with friends?”
    Daisy was silent.
    â€œPerhaps your mother takes you out for trips,” he said.
    â€œMy mum says she’s going to take me when . . . when I’m older.”
    He stepped forward out of the shadow and she saw his eyes again, the blue very pale in the bright light.
    â€œYou mean you’ve
never
been out? Not even once? You must have tried, sneaked out by yourself from time to time?”
    Daisy lowered her head. He made it sound as if it was strange that she hadn’t gone out, as if she’d done something wrong by not trying. But she had only been doing what she’d been told.
    â€œI’m not allowed,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks grow hot.
    â€œHow about visitors, then?” the man said.
    The tears rose in Daisy’s eyes once