Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

Church Walk. But he didn’t rush. He didn’t rush at anything these days. Much to the annoyance of the girl by his side, he slowed his pace to that of a laborious walk and waited, every so often telling her to shush and be patient.

There was a reason for Ronan’s caution, not that he was going to tell her. The less she knew about him the better as far as he was concerned. If he was being totally honest, he’d have left her to her own devices had she not been quite so young or innocent. But now that he was lumbered, he had to make sure that he protected himself. He knew his mum, after all he’d had the pleasure of living with her for eighteen years, and the one thing she wasn’t was stupid. Like him, she had a fierce intelligence and used every one of her brain cells to analyse each and every situation prior to making a decision as to how best to act. He was well aware that she’d do everything possible to make him return and that there was a good chance she’d succeed.

This was the primary reason he’d decided to avoid the family home, suppressing a laugh at the thought, a laugh without even a glimmer of humour. They were far from a family now, their little unit smashed into smithereens by the crimes of one man.

The car pulling out of the drive was his dad’s, something he wasn’t prepared to think about. As the grey Saab approached, he suddenly grabbed the girl by the shoulders and, bending down, started messing with her shoelaces, his face turned away. But he managed to catch a glimpse of his mother, the grim set of her lips, the grey hair that had started to drift past the collar of her pristine navy-blue dress. The word forgiveness popped into his mind out of nowhere, stopping his restless fingers as he tightened the knot on her laces. He knew it was unfair to blame his mother for what had happened but some part of him couldn’t help himself.

‘Hey, what do you think you’re doing?’

The sound of the girl’s voice punctured his thoughts but instead of replying, he jumped to his feet, grabbed her hand and started pulling her in the direction of the house. ‘Preventing my mother from spotting us – that’s her house up ahead. Now hurry up; we don’t have much time.’

‘Much time for what?’

‘Enough already.’ The only thing that prevented him from shouting was the knowledge that the neighbours might hear and call the police. ‘You said you’d do as I asked and I’m asking you to hurry up and shut up.’

‘You’re worse than my mother,’ she grumbled, increasing her footsteps to match his.

‘And don’t you forget it. Remember this was your idea and not mine.’

Heading around the side of the property, he slipped through the gate at the back and made his way to the kitchen door. He knew he was taking a risk but he didn’t have any choice. They wouldn’t have a chance with her slowing him down, especially if the police became involved. He’d just have to skew the odds in their favour.

He ignored the kitchen and all of the downstairs rooms instead racing up the stairs to his parents’ bedroom and the bathroom beyond, the girl’s hand still glued to his. The house held too many memories for them to be anything but painful. The kitchen, one of his favourite rooms, was littered with the remnants of a hasty breakfast, the plates piled up haphazardly beside the sink, the cupboards bearing the artwork from both his brothers. It was like a physical pain to be back remembering how it once was. But there was nothing for him here.

The bathroom was different again. His parents’ en suite wasn’t a room he’d frequented often. The black tiles and white bath with its fancy gold-plated taps and coordinating black and beige towels held no memories that he couldn’t cope with. Once inside, he crouched down until he was eye level, suddenly remembering something he should have asked. ‘What’s your name, by the way?’

‘Elodie, but everybody calls me Ellie.’

‘I’m Ronan. If you want to come with me, Ellie, we’re going to have to do something about your appearance,’ he said, flicking a finger at her blonde hair. ‘So have you ever thought about becoming a boy, Lee?’

‘I’m going to be a boy?’ she repeated, parrot fashion, her mouth rounded. ‘How?’

‘With this.’ He opened the mirrored cabinet above the sink and withdrew a pair of scissors in addition to a pair of clippers. ‘And before you go all tearful on me, it’s the only way. That hair of yours is too much of a giveaway. You’ll have us caught within seconds if anybody spots it.’ He took a step back. ‘So, Lee,’ he said, elongating the syllable, ‘there’s still time to change your mind. I’m more than happy to drop you off at the nearest police station if you like?’

Pale to begin with, Ellie’s skin tone lost what little colour it had and Ronan was hard pushed not to put out his hand to her. She didn’t speak but by the frightened expression stamping her features he guessed that speaking wasn’t something she could do right now. Instead she surprised him yet again by plucking the scissors from his hand and immediately starting to cut away huge hanks of her hair.

‘Hey, go easy a minute or you’ll—’ But he was too late or she was too quick as the sharp edge of the scissors pierced the tender flesh on the back of her hand, and the cut started to gush with blood.

‘Ouch.’ Her hand automatically lifted to her mouth.

‘No, don’t do that.’ He took hold of her wrist and led her to the sink. ‘Shush, it’s better than it probably feels. Little more than a scratch really,’ he said, deliberately playing down the sight of her tear-streaked cheeks while he ran cold water over the