I could barely tear myself away to cook dinner, and later I couldn’t go to bed without finishing Lee Weatherly’s book Missing Abby. Having had to look Lee in the eye and admit to not having read a single book of hers (“but my daughter likes them, honestly”) the other week, I had to read something of hers without too much delay. Found to my surprise we had three of Lee’s books in the house, and had to consult Daughter on which one to read first.
The books are very delicious looking in oranges and pinks and purples. Just my kind of colours.
Where was I? Yes, Missing Abby. Very, very exciting. And for the parent in me, quite worrying too, as it’s about a missing 13-year-old girl, seen through the eyes of her former best friend. The adults in the book are as difficult to deal with as adults tend to be. In books, I mean. There are some very nice friendships going on, and almost enough stuff about game playing to win me over. Almost.
Wish I hadn’t missed seeing Lee last week at the Plaza. If only to apologise for not being able to come up with a single book title of hers when we met. There’s nothing quite as empty as my head when it’s empty.