Her List of Kisses

Chapter 3- Auction Stools and Darkness

By the time Saturday comes around, I have plotted twelve attack scenes, a murder, five escape plans (two that involve me climbing down my drainpipe and camping with the neighbours) and one failsafe resort of total oblivious ignorance. All of which concern how to handle the return of The Diary Thief.

Despite my lack of concentration on anything but Will throughout the week, when his car actually does pull up in front of our house find myself at a loss.

"Chloe, the door? The piano's gone funny- I think the pedal's stuck! I'll be with you in a second!" Mum calls. There is a crash and a flurry of screeching chords.

Really? Twice running? My mother is usually so organised; it's typical that now is the time she decides to change her tune.

I trudge down the stairs, determined to make Will wait outside for as long as possible.

"NOW, CHLOE!!"

Shit, she sounds really angry. Apologetically, I stop dragging my feet, quicken my pace, lift the latch on my door and open it wide.

"If you wish to keep your feet attached to your legs," I snap, "get in here now and don't you dare say a word."

"Excuse me?"

Will's mother stands outside.

Beside her, her son smirks in a triumphant manner, but I am far too focused on the middle-aged businesswoman in the doorway with the furious expression to notice. She wears the type of skirt that thrusts sophistication in your face and not one strand of hair falls loose from her elegant bun. When she shifts her glasses atop her nose, I think that she could very well be running a secret mafia organisation, and nobody would ever be brave enough to challenge her about it.

"I am so, so sorry!" I stutter. "I thought you were-"

"Yes, yes. You thought I was my son," she says disapprovingly. Her accent is thoroughly posh and refined, and every word that comes from her mouth sounds like she is tutting snottily. "My son whose foot you trapped in the door last week."

Why, the little tattle-tale...

Will smiles sweetly at me and I reconsider the pros and cons of the murder plan.

"Yes, well I'm sorry about that too, but-"

"No buts!" hisses Will's mother. "I must say, I don't like you. Additionally, you are wasting my time. Now that we have established that, where's your mother?"

"Here! Here I am! Hello, May. Hey, Will!"

I don't think I have ever been as glad to see my mum as I was at that moment.

Well, until she said "Chloe, be a dear and take Will inside. Maybe you can both have a look at the pedal? I'll just be a second."

I open my mouth to object, but Will has already stepped through the doorway. His mother gazes at him expectantly, as if awaiting a send-off kiss, but she receives no acknowledgement from the boy at all. He doesn’t wait for me and wanders further into the house. Within seconds, I hear a muffled series of notes from the piano, a bang, the groaning cry of wood splitting, and a quiet “Shit.”

Slipping away is easier than I had expected; May’s eyes are already zoned in on my mother and words spill forth from her lips faster than my heart beats when I see a spider. Thankfully, I believe she has forgotten our unfortunate encounter of a few moments ago. I find Will.

“This is broken, Chloe,” he tells me.

“You think?” I raise an eyebrow at the piano, watching him scowl at my sarcasm.