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    Sour Milk
    Sour Milk
    Sour Milk
    Ebook65 pages46 minutes

    Sour Milk

    By Morgan Delaney

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When Lee's parents die, the authorities send him to the Lambs' Home: an orphanage in the middle of nowhere, run by the erratic, abusive Miss Dunn and a damaged, shop-window mannequin, with a life of its own.

     

    At the Lambs' Home all the boys are named Ivan and all the girls Anna, but Lee's name is all he has left and he's not giving it up.

    He quickly becomes the focus for the pent-up rage in the orphanage, and no one is coming to save him. But if he can uncover the secret at the heart of the Lambs' Home, he just might be able to escape.

     

    For now, all he knows is that the children hate Miss Dunn…

    but it's the mannequin they fear.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMorgan Delaney
    Release dateOct 10, 2020
    ISBN9783985660056
    Sour Milk
    Author

    Morgan Delaney

    Morgan is a lifelong reading addict and horror fan.  He is a professional ex-pat and working on his debut novel.

    Read more from Morgan Delaney

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      Book preview

      Sour Milk - Morgan Delaney

      one

      LEE HARDLY SLEPT before being dragged out of bed. He washed in icy water with the other children before they filed into the classroom. The morning was overcast. Drizzle spat at the windows. The white paint looked grey, black in the corners where mould climbed the walls. Lee sat in the front row, listening to the snuffled breathing behind him. The room smelled of chalk and damp. At the window nearest the teacher’s desk stood a life-sized shop window dummy wearing a wide, dark brown woollen suit and black boots. With the light behind it, it was hard to tell, but Lee felt it was watching them. He needed the toilet, but didn’t dare raise his hand.

      A woman sat at the front of the classroom. The policeman had called her Miss Dunn in his soft Galway accent when he delivered Lee to The Lambs of Our Lord Children’s Home the previous day. Her mouth had curled down when she saw him. Now she was calling someone. Ivan? Lee sniffed at his jumper. It smelled of the policeman’s cigarettes. Miss Dunn called again. Ivan? The policeman had called the orphanage the Lamb’s Home on the drive down and Lee had imagined a cottage among green fields. Ivan? Lee looked around. All the other children had their eyes downcast. Ivan? She was staring at Lee, her pen poised over a jotter on her desk. Lee felt himself blush with embarrassment at the attention. The policeman had told her his name. Had she made a mistake? Ivan? She picked up a metre-stick and rose. The dummy rocked as she brushed past. No, thank you, she said. I shall manage this. She stopped beside Lee. Ivan? She bent over him, her breath smelling of sour milk.

      Please, Missus, my name is—

      Ivan! She whipped the metre-stick across his fingers on the desk and turned back to continue the roll call. The dummy rocked again as the children answered in turn when she looked at them: all of them an Ivan or an Anna. His fingers aching, Lee kept his eyes on the dummy by the window. It had realistic rubber hands but only a ball of wood the colour of dried wheat for a head. Two lines were carved into it for eyes. He had been told that its name was Mr Leonard and that it would get him.

      two

      NEW CHILDREN should introduce themselves, Ivan, said Miss Dunn.

      Lee clamped his jaws together. Yes, Missus. My name is—

      Ivan. She paced back towards him, fixing him with her eyes, huge behind her glasses. Why are you here?

      Please, Missus, they sent me here, he said.

      Of course you were sent here. No one chooses Corkragh, don’t be facetious. A snigger from the back of the class somewhere.

      Please, Missus, they sent me because I have no parents, said Lee. The words caught in his throat. He kept his eyes down.

      Are they dead?

      Yes, Missus.

      Then say: ‘They’re dead.’

      Yes, Missus.

      An accident?

      Yes, Missus.

      Was it?

      Yes,Missus.

      Ivan?

      The dummy—Mr Leonard—leaned in closer.

      Was it?

      Car accident. Missus.

      Miss Dunn waited.

      My mother was killed in a car accident, Missus.

      Ah! And your father?

      My father is also dead, Missus.

      Car accident. She walked around him.

      No, Missus. My father died before, Missus.

      How?

      He was ill, Missus.

      Ill?

      Yes, Missus.

      ‘Yes, Missus?’

      He was ill, and he died, Missus.

      She shook her head. He killed himself, Ivan. It wasn’t an accident.

      Lee said nothing.

      ‘Yes, Missus?’ said Miss Dunn. ‘Yes, Missus?’ Your father killed himself and your mother decided she’d rather be dead than look after you on her own. ‘Yes, Missus?’ And nobody else wanted you, so now you’re my problem. ‘Yes, Missus?’

      … yes, Missus, said Lee. He held onto his desk, fingers scratching at a corner.

      She bent to look him straight in the eyes. It’s ‘Miss,’ she spat into his face. Lee twitched. She grabbed

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