Perfect Daughter Read Online Free Page B

mad, but I knew I’d get into trouble so I didn’t say anything.’
    ‘But you won anyway?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, there’s a lesson there then.’ He nodded sagely.
    ‘What lesson?’ Jacks pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan.
    Her dad scratched his chin. ‘I’m damned if I know, probably something like, it’s good to think before you act, keep a calm head, that kind of thing. But you won anyway, so who cares!’
    He trotted over and placed his cigarette-free hand around her shoulders, pulling her towards him and kissing her scalp. He then showered her with a handful of cut grass he’d gathered for the purpose.
    Jacks shrieked and jumped backwards, shaking her long hair as she patted her shirt and skirt. ‘Da-ad!’ She instinctively looked towards the kitchen window, where her mum stood at the sink with pursed lips and a straight back. Jacks felt the disapproval dripping off her.
    ‘Ooh, look, the fun police are on patrol.’ Her dad jerked his head towards the house and pulled a wide mouth. ‘No spontaneous laughter, you have been warned!’ He winked at her.
    She wanted to laugh, to come back with a retort, but the feeling that she was being disloyal to her mum kept her silent. It had always been that way. As an only child she regularly felt like a referee, caught in the middle of their daily, long-drawn-out battle.
    ‘Got any homework?’ he asked.
    ‘A bit. I’ve got to read a scene from Oscar Wilde’s An Ideal Husband . And I have to draw a graph for business studies.’
    ‘An ideal husband? Well, I can help with that. It was probably written about me!’ He leant back and laughed loudly.
    ‘Not sure Mum would agree.’ Jacks pulled her bag up on to her shoulder and made towards the house.
    ‘Love, if I said black, your mother would say white. She doesn’t agree with anything I say.’
    Jacks ignored him and pushed open the back door. Not wanting the seesaw of emotions to spoil this wonderful day.
    ‘Tea’s nearly ready.’ Her mum spoke quietly as she poured a steady stream of salt into a pan of boiling water, into which she would tip the carrots she had peeled and sliced. ‘You’ve got a few minutes if you want to take your stuff upstairs and get settled. I’m just going to lay the table.’
    Jacks nodded, her eyes wandering over the mess that her mum always created when she prepared the evening meal.
    ‘What were you and Dad laughing about? I saw you larking about in the garden.’ Ida smiled briefly as she gathered the knives and forks and the tomato ketchup bottle.
    ‘Nothing.’ Jacks shrugged, feeling her cheeks flame as though laughing with her dad was not allowed.
    She climbed the stairs, kicked off her shoes and pushed her over-the-knee socks down, rubbing where the tight elastic had cut into her thigh, before flopping down on her bed. She stared up at her poster of Take That before pulling her notepad from her bag. She wrote the word for the first time, encircling it in a heart. Sven. Sven. This was the word that danced in her mind and sat on her tongue. Sven. He had been at school for the last six months, but apart from her having noticed his shock of blonde hair and rather nifty home-knitted jumpers, they had had little contact. He was one of the clever kids and was in some of her classes, and she had listened and smirked with her mates at his pronunciation of certain words, which often left a lot to be desired. She had watched in the dinner queue as some of the boys in the football team had asked if he was a member of Abba and if his mum and dad owned a Volvo. He had responded quickly that they were being ridiculous, of course his parents didn’t own a Volvo, but, yes, he was in fact Agnetha, from Abba. Sven. She wrote it again and then wrote Jackie Lundgren by the side.
    ‘Tea’s ready!’ her mum called up the stairs. Jacks shut her notebook and placed it under her pillow, ready for further doodling in later.
    She slunk down the stairs, pausing at the hallway mirror to