Read Online Precious Things by Kelly Doust - Free Book Online

her.
    â€˜They’re in the wash,’ Maggie said quickly. ‘But what about these ones? Look, they’re so pretty.’
    â€˜Ballet shoes!’ Pearl insisted, pulling her hand away. ‘No tights!’
    Maggie heard Tim’s footsteps on the stairs. ‘We’re going to be late,’ he shouted. ‘Hurry up, Mags – I’ve got a meeting with the developers at nine. Unless you can take her?’
    â€˜Can’t. Got the telly thing, remember?’ Maggie shouted back.
    â€˜Pearl!’ he barked. ‘Out. Now.’
    â€˜Yes, Daddy,’ replied Pearl, suddenly compliant. She scrambled out from behind the chair, trailing the limp doll behind her.
    Maggie rolled her eyes at Tim, and he shot her a grin over Pearl’s head. ‘Has this little monkey been giving you trouble?’ he asked, grabbing Pearl’s hand. ‘And where’s Stella? Is she even up yet? I wanted to talk to her about that essay . . .’
    â€˜I haven’t seen her this morning, but I’ll make sure she’s up by the time I leave,’ said Maggie, raising her voice in the vain hope Stella would hear it through her closed door and get out of bed by herself.
    Maggie followed Tim and Pearl downstairs, watching as Pearl let him put her coat on without argument. She gave a resigned sigh. At least it was better than the previous week: Pearl’s claims of being too ‘scared’ to go to nursery and her tantrum had made them all miss their trains on Friday morning. What had that been about? Generally Pearl loved the nursery. When Maggie had told Pearl she simply must go, that she couldn’t possibly stay home with Mummy because Mummy had to work, Pearl had burst into tears. ‘You always have to work!’ she had shouted. It had made Maggie feel wretched all week.
    â€˜Tim, her tights,’ Maggie suddenly remembered, holding out the balled-up stockings.
    â€˜No time. She can go without,’ said Tim, shrugging on his coat and bending to give Maggie a brief kiss on the cheek.
    â€˜But she’ll freeze! Pearl, your boots,’ she cried forlornly as Pearl slipped on her grubby pair of ballet shoes by the hallstand then wound her left arm around Tim’s leg, the other dragging Lucy.
    â€˜All right, we’re off. Scoot,’ said Tim to Pearl, gently nudging her down the front steps. ‘Say goodbye to Mummy.’
    â€˜Bye, Mummy,’ called Pearl, skipping down the stairs before Maggie had a chance to pat down her daughter’s crazy sticky-out hair or grasp her in another quick cuddle, drinking in the gorgeous smell of her morning skin. She was glad she wasn’t catching the train with them today, at least. The other commuters must wonder what kind of mother she was, letting her daughter face the chilly day with bare legs and shabby ballet slippers . . . But sometimes arguing was simply more trouble than it was worth.
    Maggie shut the front door and began moving fast. She went back into the kitchen, sighing when she saw the mess littering the table. Really, Tim could make a bit more effort . . . Quickly and efficiently Maggie gathered up the dishes and stacked them in the large ceramic sink, putting the bread away and grabbing the lunch she’d packedearlier. She glanced around the room. Dominated by the long, honey-coloured farmhouse table, the large, low-lit kitchen was her favourite place in the house.
    Maggie had looked for ages before she’d found the perfect kitchen table, but as soon as she’d laid eyes upon the sturdy item in an otherwise unpromising house view – one of countless visits she made each week to source floor stock – she’d known it was exactly what she wanted for her life with Tim.
    â€˜It’s from Burgundy,’ the woman selling it told her. Maggie knew the tired-looking woman was readying the contents of her mother’s Berkshire house for sale after the old woman had been shifted to an