The mysterious man...

Chapter 4

I has visions of her uncle boiling up live deer or monkey's brains for dinner, but to my surprise the kitchen was normal and even nice. It wasn't exactly modern but it had a farmhouse feel to it. There was an Aga exuding warmth, burnished chestnut tiles on the floor and a worn oak table. To my relief, lucky settled down in front of the fireplace and went to sleep. I love animals and I  had always dreamed of having a dog of my own, but it was obvious where the wolfhound's loyalties lay.

'Mrs Webb has made some leek and potato soup,' Harry Styles said. 'Would you like a bowl? There's some homemade bread to go with it.'

I  suddenly felt really hungry. in nodded. It was only then it occurred to her that I  hasn't said a word to my uncle since entering the house.

I  watched him put a pot on the stove and stir it. The light was better on the kitchen than it has been in the hallway and i was able to study him better. In my limited experience, he looked quite handsome and youngish, I  guessed that her uncle was in his early 20's. But it was his face that intrigued me. He looked like a hero of some black-and-white movie, his dark hair in perfect curls, the lines around his eyes etched with an almost unbearable sadness.

There was something else in his expression too, something unreadable.

He put a streaming bowl in front of me and cut her a thick slice of bread.

'Thank you,' I  said, finding her voice. i spread the bread with butter.

A sudden smile softened his features. 'You're the living image of your mum, you know.'

'I wouldn't,' I said. 'She died before I met her. I have a photograph but....' All at once i felt like bursting into tears. I have been without a mother for so long that I  hardly ever cries about, i was too young when it all happened and doesn't understand why my mother died the night i was born, but tonight i was tired and struggling with my  emotions. For years, I have longed for a relative to claim me. Now I  was face to face with my mother's brother and i didn't know if i should feel scared or happy about it.

To distract myself, i took a few mouthfuls of soup. It was delicious and sent a welcome of heat around my body.

my uncle watched me intently. 'I never knew,' he said. 'About you, i mean. Your mum and I were separated when I was young. Our parent split up, and I grew up hundreds of miles away from her. They sort of chose between us. I went with our father and your mum went with our mother. We took their names, hence you being called Cox, our mum's maiden name. I never saw Gemma again until I was 17. By which time, we'd had totally different lives and were on very different paths. In many ways, we were complete opposites.'

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why they were complete opposites, but she stops herself. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. Not now. Not tonight.

She said: 'The soup is very good.'

Harry Styles smiles again. 'Yes, well, Mrs Webb knows how to cook.'

'Who's Mrs Webb?'

He gave a deep laugh. 'She's my housekeeper.'

Sophie thought of the unkempt garden and weeds sprouting from the path, then jumped when her uncle said: 'Mrs Webb doesn't do gardens and neither do I. If you're a fan of flowers and neat borders, you might have to do it yourself.'

He carried her bowl and plate to the sink. 'She's not big on dishes either, so you'll need to do your own. However she does bake a mean cake. You'll find it in this tin here. Feel free to help yourself any time. Take a slice up to bed with you if you like.'

Opening the cake tin, he cut her a big slab of Victoria sponge with cream and jam and poured her a glass of milk. Sophie took them from him and said thank you.

'I don't get involved in the running of the house. If you have any food likes or dislikes, tell Mrs Webb. Same goes if you need shampoo or toothpaste or whatever. I'll give you pocket money each week for some stuff. If you really need something like clothes or a computer or anything, let me know and I'll see what I can go do about it. I'll also provide you with a mobile phone. Money don't grow on trees but I don't want you feeling like you can't ask.' He gestured in the direction of the fridge. 'Regarding meals, I'll be at some, I won't be at others. You'll have to entertain yourself. I have a tv and an xbox if you are into that stuff. I don't mind you exploring the place whenever you want but always be in by sunset.'

Tears sprang into Sophie's eyes and she turned away quickly to hide them. The concept of being trusted to make her own decisions, of a life without rules blew her mind.

At Sylvan Meadows she'd been supervised in one way or another (see what I did there ;)) twenty-four hours a day. Even the foster homes she'd stayed in had more rules than a prison. The chihuahua lady had rules about not sitting on her white sofa, or touching her china ornaments; the hippies had endless instructions about recycling and caring about the planet and not flushing the toilet unnecessarily. The home run like an army unit ha required her to be up a 6.00am, and had scheduled her day from morning to night in thirty minute slots of house cleaning duties, school work and sport.

And yet her uncle, who'd known her less than an hour, had taken one look at her and decided that he trusted her to eat, sleep and exist in a house without rules. It made her feel warm inside.

'You must be exhausted, Sophie,' said Harry Styles pretending not to noticed her tears. 'Come, let me show you too your room.'

He picked up her suitcase and climbed the stairs to the second floor, pointing out the bathroom, his own room and the spare room.

Sophie had expected to be in the spare room , but it turns out that hers was right at the top of the house. It was a spacious attic and was simply furnished with a bed, a cupboard and a threadbare rug. On one wall was a seascape painting that was really ugly and wasn't very well painted. Harry Styles saw her staring at it and said: 'This is your own room decorate as you want.'

He set down her suitcase and went over to the window and lowered the blind.

'Goodnight Sophie,' he said smiling.

'Goodnight' said Sophie, hoping that he would do something like give her a hug or something. He didn't. At the door, he turned around and opened his mouth to speak but he doesn't and leaves abruptly.

She wriggled into her pyjamas and say on her bed eating sponge cake and getting jam and cream all over her face and a little i the sheets, and just enjoying that no one was going to tell her off for making a mess. She now has freedom and a family of sorts - Harry Styles and Lucky.

When the last crumb was finished, Sophie fell back onto her pillows, a big smile on her face. For the first time in her life, she felt at home.

----( heyy, tell me what you think of the story so far?? is it good or bad??? let me know comment! xxxxxxx beth!! Xxxx)