Never Close Your Eyes by Emma Burstall Page B

took the plastic bag. ‘Come inside and show me,’ she said to the girl. ‘Evie, I should think you need a nice glass of wine after that.’
    She poured Evie a glass and another one for herself. Evie didn’t seem to notice that the bottle was already open. The women sat round the kitchen table and Freya produced a pair of big, black, very masculine-looking Dr Martens.
    â€˜They’re great,’ Nic lied. She glanced nervously at Evie. ‘Very trendy.’
    Evie smiled back weakly.
    Freya nodded without making eye contact. This, Evie had already explained to Nic, was all part and parcel of being an emo – short for emotive or emotional – a cool young subset of the Goths, apparently. Generally, emos worked hard at looking – and being – miserable, introspective and misunderstood.
    Freya had dyed black hair and wore heaps of mascara. Today she was in her school uniform but at weekends she favoured skinny jeans and tight, printed, band T-shirts. She tended to slouch so that her slender body resembled a question mark. Despite attempting to look as unappealing as possible, however, there was a sweetness about her that she couldn’t disguise, and a vulnerability. She had big blue eyes, a peaky little chin and a full mouth. In a few years, Nic thought, she’d be a beauty.
    Nic felt that Evie was remarkably sanguine about the emo business. Evie’s view was that it was just a phase and Freya would come out the other end. She’d been through a lot with her dad leaving home and needed to express herself.
    The boys opened the glass door and burst into the kitchen. ‘We’re going up to watch telly,’ Dominic explained, racing past.
    â€˜Take your shoes off first,’ Nic called after them.
    Finally, Evie took another sip of wine and rose. ‘I must go. Freya’s got homework for tomorrow.’
    â€˜But we haven’t finished the bottle yet,’ Nic protested. ‘You can always leave the car here and pick it up in the morning.’
    Evie was about to reply when Nic’s husband, Alan, appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was a small, slightly awkward-looking man with short, straight hair that was greying at the sides and combed neatly off his face with a side parting. He was wearing a navy-blue raincoat over his dark suit, which looked just a little too big for him. He hovered uncomfortably for a second or two.
    â€˜Darling!’ Nic smiled, beckoning him over. ‘We were setting the world to rights. Glass of wine?’
    He walked over to Nic and pecked her on the cheek. ‘No thanks. Good to see you, Evie.’ He took off his raincoat, laid it on a chair and started loosening his tie.
    â€˜And you’re . . . ?’ He looked at Freya.
    â€˜My daughter, Freya,’ Evie explained quickly.
    Nic watched him carefully. His left eye flickered.
    â€˜Of course. How do you do, Freya.’ He held out his hand, which she took. ‘I didn’t recognise you.’
    She didn’t meet his gaze.
    â€˜The last time we met you were just a little girl with bunches.’
    At that she gave a half-smile.
    He turned back to Nic. ‘I’ve got a bit of work to do.’ He patted her on the shoulder.
    Nic glanced at Evie and took a big glug of wine, draining the glass. ‘Work, work, work, it’s all he does.’ She poured herself more wine.
    Alan was already on his way out of the door. ‘Bye, Evie. Bye, Freya.’
    â€˜He slaves away in that study of his till all hours,’ Nic went on. ‘I honestly don’t think he’d notice if I pranced around in nothing but a pair of fishnet stockings.’
    â€˜You should try to go away together for a weekend or something,’ Evie suggested. ‘It sounds like you need it.’
    Nic didn’t seem to hear.
    â€˜I almost wish he had some secret lover hidden up there,’ she said, taking another sip of wine. ‘At least then I could