Em Muslin - Before You Were Mine - the breathtaking USA Today Bestseller

On the way home from school, we would run through the fields of cotton past the apple orchard, behind Mrs Melrose’s shack, and if we were lucky she’d come out and bring us a fruit ice to quench our dry tongues. We’d return home with sticky raspberry juice dripping from our mouths, thirsty for more. My Ma would be outside in the backyard, hanging out the washing that blew like ships’ sails and Daisy and I would run around the billowing sheets playing tag until it was time to help my Ma prepare the supper for the boys.

I would sit at the table peeling potatoes and my Ma would pop Daisy onto the pedestal by the kitchen window, so she could look out for her Pa returning from work. Daisy’s Ma had run off a number of years ago, leaving her Pa Harold to look after her on his own. By all accounts he had done a damn fine job. That’s if you didn’t count the all-day drinking, the numerous jobs he had been fired from, and the fact he hadn’t spoken more than two words to Daisy since her Ma had left.

So, Daisy would sit staring out onto the dusty road, fluttering her eyelashes, whilst my Ma looked adoringly at Daisy’s golden hair and wistfully wished I could be that little bit prettier, that little bit slimmer, that little bit, little bit …

I didn’t mind my Ma paying Daisy so much attention. Hell, in fact more often than not I would encourage it. The more she looked at Daisy, the less she looked at me. The less she looked at me, the less I did.

You see, I wanted to be the perfect daughter for her but my angular nose, wide shoulders, and the gap between my two front teeth made me less than perfect. But finding Daisy? Finding Daisy, was like discovering the missing piece in the jigsaw. I wasn’t her friend just because she made me laugh, or because she told me how to dress, or even because it made me that little bit more popular. I was Daisy’s friend simply because she filled the hole I was unable to.

We were inseparable. Two peas in a pod, ripe and ready for picking. We’d spend Sundays after church playing hopscotch drawn out on the dusty road, watched by gawky boys who didn’t dare approach us for fear of encountering Daisy’s sharp tongue. She would tease them by hitching up her skirt and jumping as high as she could and the boys would lie on the sandy road in their Sunday best, trying to get the finest view.

I, on the other hand, would skip awkwardly across the numbers, holding my skirt down in fear of being hollered at. After she had got their attention, she’d glance over her shoulder, flutter her eyelashes, and run as far and as fast as she could. I’d trail behind, with my skirt flapping between my legs, giggling, watching the boys clamber up from the road to chase after her. Running across the backyards, through the orchard, past Melrose’s shack and into the dense growth that surrounded the east side of town, we ran until we knew we were safe.

Catching our breath, we’d lie on our backs and look up at the burning blue sky, daring the other to stare directly at the sun for as long as possible. Both blinded by the saffron light, we’d roll around giggling, unable to see each other for the inky squiggles that would appear before our eyes. I’d lie there, blinded, knowing that Daisy was right by my side and it was then, in that moment, that I knew I didn’t want anything to ever change.

What is it they say? If you want make God laugh, tell him about your plans.

CHAPTER 2

I could see it was turning dark outside and thankfully a light breeze was floating gently through the open window. It’d been a while since the last contraction and I was grateful for the respite. I really didn’t know it were going to hurt so bad. I hadn’t felt pain like that before, not even when I’d tripped up on the back porch when I was four and flew into the door at full speed, cutting my head open.

Mrs Melrose thought a cat had been killed, by the wailing I gave out. I remember running into her backyard, holding my bleeding head, dripping claret droplets all over her scorched lawn. No one was home at our place and I’d remembered seeing Mrs Melrose on my way back from the store. She patched me up good and proper and that ginger ice cream sure helped take the pain away.

I had wandered back the long way from school, so as not to run into anyone on the way home, when the first pains began. I didn’t know what it was and for a minute I thought it might have been the chicken I’d eaten at lunch, but when I felt the dripping on my leg and saw a puddle of water in the dusty road, I knew. I just knew it was time.

Holding my tummy as tight as possible so as to keep everything in, I ran up past the picket fence and up the steps into our empty house. I knew no one was in. The boys would be hanging around the garage with my Pa, and my Ma was no doubt on one of her countless shopping trips with Daisy, preparing for the Annual Independence Parade.

As soon as the recess bell rang, Daisy would dash out of the classroom, before I had tidied my desk, and she’d run to my Ma, who’d be waiting open-armed at the gates for her little girl. I had given up trying to pack up my desk as fast as possible and with the extra weight I was carrying, I was even slower than usual.

Grabbing some pencils from my bag, I wrote on the back of my math book, a note for my Ma and Daisy to find when they returned home. ‘Baby coming. Gone to hospital. See you soon. Love Eli.’ I left a kiss for both of them. ‘Kiss Kiss.’ I ran the cold faucet and, cupping my hands under the water, I tipped it over my face to try and cool me down, but as soon as it had dripped down my face onto my school uniform, I was damn well bursting with heat again.

Checking my pocket for some loose change, I stepped back out into the mid-afternoon heat. Still clinging on to my belly, I made my way to the bus stop praying that I wouldn’t look behind me and see a trickle of water. As I waddled along, pressing my legs as close as could be, I could see as I passed by the general store, him glancing across at me and turning his head as he caught my eye. It had only been nine months previous when I had tasted that raspberry ice melting on my tongue.

Since that day, I have never been so grateful for a bus being on time. More often than not, we’d wait twenty, maybe thirty minutes for the bus to arrive from Mallory and it’d be packed full; but this time, this time not only was it on time, but thankfully it was fairly empty too. I had gotten used to the stares from both strangers and neighbours as they looked me up and down in disgust. Admittedly, a heavily pregnant fourteen-year-old girl is bound to attract remarks, but I had never known that people could be quite so cruel.

As I shuffled carefully onto the bus, with the change becoming clammy in my hand, I spotted Johnny Wilson and Tim Dwight from seventh grade loungin’ at the back of the bus. My stomach dropped so far I looked to the floor to see if anything had come out. Keeping my gaze firmly fixed down, I squeezed my legs together and sat myself as near to the front as possible, in the hope they wouldn’t see me. I ignored the first few times I felt the slight tug on my hair, hoping they’d get bored, but the more I ignored them, the more it seemed to encourage them.

The heat on the bus was excruciating and I tried to open the window, but it just wouldn’t budge. Biting my lip so hard, to stop myself from yelping, I tasted iron on my tongue. The cramps had gotten so bad that the tugging on my hair, which I found out later was gum they had thrown at me, melted into the background. Finding it hard to breathe, I could barely sit up straight and the rising temperature only intensified the faintness I felt.

Clutching on to my insides as tight as possible, I rocked gently to and fro to try and calm the pain. I could hear them; don’t get me wrong. I knew exactly what they were saying, but everything around me was swimming. I tried to count to one hundred, but I don’t think I got any further than seventeen.