"L. Lee Lowe - Mortal Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowe L Lee)

'It's OK this time. You're tired.'
Chapter 2 13

She narrowed her eyes, measuring him.

'There's probably some old stuff of my --' She broke off and took a breath. 'Some old stuff we've still got that
will fit you. We can put your clothes in the washing machine.'

'Won't he object?'

'Who?'

'Your father.'

Her laugh again. 'He wouldn't even notice. Anyway, he's on the top of some mountain in the Andes on another
of his expeditions.'

'Expedition?' This was getting more interesting.

'Don't be so nosy,' Sarah said, but with a grin. She relented. 'He's a photographer. Does a lot of nature
assignments. You know, like National Geographic. Unless you're a new kind of moss or mollusc or mineral,
you're just another teenage body. You could be wearing a dinner jacket over a thong, with feather boa to
match, and he wouldn't turn a hair. He lives in jeans and T-shirts, which he orders in bulk from the internet.
Except when he's in his biker's mode, when he dons black leather and chains.'

'Now you're trying to wind me up,' he protested.

'Well ... only a bit. If you get to meet Finn, you'll see what I mean.'

'Is he gone for long?'

'Depends. Why? Are you planning to rob us or just move in?'

Jesse shook his head in irritation. 'You really need to be more careful.'

'You don't know my mother,' was all Sarah would say.

After showing him the bathroom, Sarah handed Jesse a comb and hairbrush as well as a wrapped toothbrush,
then carried off his dirty clothes and sleeping bag without a sign of disgust, for which he was grateful. Now he
lay down with a sigh of pure bliss, skin tingling from the long hot shower and scented by the lavender skin
cream which Sarah had offered him. 'I make it myself.' His hair had lightened at least two shades. The old
T-shirt and boxers fitted well enough, though they were a size smaller than he normally wore. He had lost
weight in recent months. The dog was curled up on the brightly patterned bedside mat. Though Jesse always
read himself to sleep no matter where he kipped, his eyes were too heavy for print. He was asleep within
minutes.

Despite his exhaustion, he sleeps fitfully. Darkness eddies uncertainly around him. Voices whisper. Faces
appear and disappear. Figures cry out in agony, and flail their arms, and sink beneath the waves. A red sun
blisters the sea, blinding Jesse, burning him. Wait, he calls. Hold on, I'm coming. But the water rejects him,