The Tearsmith by Erin Doom EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Erin Doom
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Women Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.9 MB
- Price: Free
A New Home
Dressed in sorrow, she was still the most
beautiful and radiant thing in all the world.
‘They want to adopt you.’
These were words I never thought I would hear.
I wanted it so much, had wanted it ever since I was a little girl, so for a
moment I thought I must have fallen asleep and be dreaming. Again.
But this wasn’t the voice from my dreams.
It was the gruff bark of Mrs Fridge, her voice infused with the usual
contempt.
‘Me?’ I gasped incredulously.
She sneered at me with a curled upper lip.
‘You.’
‘You’re sure?’
She gripped her pen with her pudgy fingers, and I flinched under her
glare.
‘Have you gone deaf?’ she snapped. ‘Did all that fresh air block your
ears?’
I hurried to shake my head, my eyes wide in disbelief.
It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
No one wanted teenagers. No one wanted older children, never, not
under any circumstances…It was a proven fact. It was like in the dog
shelter – everyone wanted a puppy, because they were cute, innocent, and
easy to train. No one wanted a dog that had been there its whole life.
This had been a difficult truth for me to accept, having grown up under
that roof.
When you were little, they would at least look at you. But gradually, as
you grew up, those looks would become fleeting glances, and their pity
would carve you into those four walls forever.
But now…now…
‘Mrs Milligan wants to have a little chat. She’s downstairs waiting for
you. Show her round the institute and try not to ruin everything. Keep your
head out of the clouds and with a bit of luck you’ll be out of here.’
—
My head was spinning.
The skirt of my good dress fluttered against my knees as I climbed down
the stairs, and again, I wondered if this was just another of my daydreams.
Surely, it was a dream. At the bottom of the stairs, I was greeted by the
kind face of a mature woman, clutching an overcoat in her arms.
‘Hi,’ she smiled, and I noticed that she was looking me directly in the
eyes. That hadn’t happened in a very long time.
‘Hello…’ I exhaled.
She told me that she’d noticed me in the garden earlier, as she was
coming in through the institute’s wrought-iron gates. She had seen me in the
long grass, lit by the shafts of sunlight filtering through the tree leaves.
‘I’m Anna,’ she introduced herself as we started to walk.
Her voice was velvety, mellowed by age. I gazed at her, enraptured,
wondering if it was possible to be electrocuted by sound, or to be so
enamoured by something you’d only just heard.
‘What about you? What’s your name?’
‘Nica,’ I answered, trying to contain my emotion. ‘My name is Nica.’
She looked at me curiously, and I was so keen to hold her gaze that I
didn’t even look where I was stepping.
‘That’s a very unusual name. I’ve never heard it before.’
‘Yes…’ My gaze became evasive and shy. ‘My parents named me.
They…well, they were both biologists. Nica is a type of butterfly.
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