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

staring off into the distance, and noticed a shadow just below the neckline of his T-shirt. She wondered if
there were a bruise or birthmark on his back -- not a question she could ask him easily. His hands were
gripping his knees hard enough to whiten his knuckles. She would have liked to take his hand. There was a
prominent callus on the middle finger of his left hand. Fingers that wrote a lot. Elegant, strong fingers. What
do you say to someone who carries this around with him? She had no idea.

Sarah thought about her own father, his booming laugh and laughing eyes. He could roar in anger, and there
had been more than enough dreadful fights in their family. But blows? Once when she'd opened his camera to
look inside and spoiled a whole roll of film from Manchuria -- she must have been four or five at the time --
he'd smacked her bottom with a slipper and then hugged her afterwards, tears in his eyes. He'd never hit her
again.

It had been years before she learned that other men hid their tears. She'd never forget the way he cried during
that ghastly time ...

'Jesse,' she said, 'talk to my mother.'

He shook his head.

'She'll help you. I know she will.'

Jesse tore his gaze from whatever vista he'd been contemplating. He mustered a smile but Sarah saw the
winter in his eyes, and more.

'I'll be all right,' he said.

Jesse laid his head upon his knees and his hair fell forward, screening his face. At Sarah's side lay a conker in
its green case, one of several. She picked it up, turned it in her hand -- perfectly formed if tiny. Leaning
forward, she whispered Jesse's name and offered him the chestnut. Perplexed, he took the stunted little thing,
and for a brief moment her fingers curled around his. Then he pulled away.
Chapter 6 41

Chapter 6
'You're not eating,' said Sarah's mother.

The three of them were sitting in the kitchen at a battered wooden table, probably a family heirloom. A jug
with sweet peas scented the room.

'Jesse?' Sarah's mother prompted.

'I'm not very hungry, Mrs --' He broke off, realising that he didn't know their surname.

'Andersen. But please call me Meg.'

He glanced at Sarah. 'We had a late meal.'

'That reminds me,' Meg said. 'Thomas rang. You forgot your mobile again.'

'Oh shit. I was supposed to meet him in the afternoon,' Sarah said. 'He was going make his famous coconut ice
cream cake.'