Read Online Don't Get Me Wrong by Marianne Kavanagh - Free Book Online

have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    Eva yawned and rubbed her eyes. “You know. Right hook. Jab. Uppercut. Do you want a cup of tea?”
    And she wandered off downstairs to brew up raspberry leaf or chamomile or whatever pregnancy-friendly health-food stuff she was drinking, and I stood there on the aluminum ladder—half in the loft, half out—and thought, Boxing? No. Not Harry. Harry doesn’t fight people.
    He just hurts them by laughing at them.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    â€œAnd then I got to the box on the form that said, Why do you want to be a teacher? And I thought, But I don’t. I don’t want to be a teacher.” Izzie looked up in distress.
    It was a Saturday afternoon in late August. Every so often, the foundations of the Nunhead house shook as cars with speakers the size of dog kennels boomed their way past. The air was flat and useless, as if someone had sucked all the goodness out of it. Izzie had just arrived from Newcastle. She quite often dressed in a slightly haphazard way, like someone decorating a cake who starts off with chocolate buttons and decides halfway through that lattice icing would look much better. Kim suspected her mind was usually on other things. But today, herchoices seemed even more random than usual. Izzie was wearing small brown ankle boots, a long red taffeta skirt, a man’s black waistcoat with silver buttons, and a double row of pearls. Her wild brown hair was piled on top of her head and secured with a pencil. The overall effect, strangely, was demure and conservative, like Edith Wharton at her country estate.
    Kim, who only ever wore black jeans and a T-shirt, was deeply impressed.
    â€œSo I don’t know what to do,” said Izzie, on the brink of tears. “I thought I had it all worked out. And now it’s unraveling. Like a piece of bad knitting.”
    Kim took a deep breath. This called for clear thinking. “OK, let’s start with the negatives. You don’t want to teach. What else do you definitely not want to do?”
    â€œLive with my parents.”
    Kim opened her mouth to speak and shut it again.
    â€œIt doesn’t stop. Ever since I told them I’d changed my mind. ‘You don’t have to teach forever, pet. But it’s a useful skill to fall back on. Because you know life’s not easy these days. There are bills to pay. There’s gas and electric and water. And then you’ve got your Council Tax. Not to mention food. Have you seen the prices? Your father and I love having you here. Of course we do. But once we’re gone, how are you going to manage?’ ”
    It was as if Izzie’s mother was sitting in the room.
    â€œIt’s not funny,” said Izzie.
    Kim wiped the smile off her face. “So you don’t want to be a teacher. And you don’t want to live with your parents. Is there anything you do want to do?”
    Izzie hesitated.
    â€œWhat?” said Kim.
    â€œLive in London.”
    Kim’s face lit up. “With me?”
    â€œI could look after Eva’s baby. In return for a free room.”
    Kim frowned. “I might not be living with Eva.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI’m not that keen on living somewhere that Harry’s paying for.”
    Izzie opened her eyes wide. “He’s going to pay for it? A whole flat?”
    Kim nodded.
    â€œWhat’s that if it isn’t a guilty conscience?”
    As usual, whenever conversation turned to Harry, Kim felt herself squirming and coiling, like a worm exposed to sunlight. She said, to change the subject, “So what are you going to do? If you’re not going to teach?”
    Izzie shrugged. “Earn some money.”
    â€œDoing what?”
    â€œStacking shelves?”
    Kim looked gloomy. “I think you need a master’s to do that these days.”
    â€œOh,” said Izzie, shocked. “You didn’t get it? The research