A Brief History of Montmaray Read Online Free PDF Page A

coming from the gatehouse chimney. Homing pigeons were one of Toby’s seven-day enthusiasms last year. He and Henry built a loft – more of a pigeon palace, actually – but a few of them escaped.
    However, I’m neglecting today’s most important event – the Basque captain’s cargo ship stopped by. Henry, Jimmy and I rowed out in the Queen Clementine, our little rowboat, and traded a bucket of Montmaray mussels (Captain Zuleta is inexplicably fond of the horrid, beardy things) for proper food, namely:
    1. Two pineapples
    2. A tin of cheddar biscuits
    3. A box of Turkish delight, tied up with pink and gold ribbon.
    He also gave us some newspapers that he indicated he’d found lying around the ship – he knows what little news we get of the outside world. He really does seem a very nice man, even if I can barely understand a word he says.
    We gave Alice one of the pineapples and half the biscuits (it was only fair, Jimmy had gathered most of the mussels). I do love visiting Alice – I wish she’d been the one, rather than Rebecca, to come up to the castle and take care of us after my parents were killed. Alice is soft and sweet-natured, instead of bony and sharp-tongued; also, she can cook. Today her cottage smelled of thyme and shallots and sweet peppers and codfish, all bubbling away over the fire. One of her cats was crouched beneath the rocking chair, dabbing at a hermit crab with a curious paw, and the other was washing itself on the hearth rug. Sitting down in a puddle of sunlight at the table, I felt a bit like purring myself, it was so warm and cosy (although it’s probably not at all cosy in the middle of a storm – I bet their roof leaks even worse than ours).
    ‘Well, now,’ said Alice, after she’d finished exclaiming over the pineapples (neither of us had a clue what to do with them, but I promised to ask Veronica and report back). ‘And how are things up at the castle, Your Highness?’
    I keep asking Alice not to call me that – it’s ridiculous when there are now as many Royal Highnesses on the island as there are subjects – but she’s very old-fashioned and it’s no use. So I helped her shell a basin of peas and told her what had been happening, which was not much. (Henry had dropped a jar of honey comb and the tabby cat rolled in it and glued itself to the pantry floor; the hens had somehow got into the chapel.) It would have been a lovely, peaceful visit except that Henry and Jimmy were outside the window singing at the nanny goat. The singing is Mary’s idea. Music is supposed to improve the milk quality, although I’ve yet to notice any difference – perhaps it’s because none of us can sing in tune. Alice and I finished the peas and then Carlos wandered in, wagging his tail. He was licking his lips and there were shards of crab shell stuck in his beard. This reminded everyone it was lunch time, so I rounded up Henry before Alice should feel obliged to ask us to stay. (They had barely enough fish stew for the four of them, I checked. It was a pity because Alice’s fish stew is absolutely delicious. If any of us could cook, I’d ask her for the recipe.)
    On the way back, we passed Mary, who was weeding the vegetable garden, and George, who was sitting on his doorstep mending a fishing net. He looked rather disappointed to see us without Veronica. He’s fond of Henry and polite to me, but Veronica’s the one he adores. I’m not sure whether it’s because she’s the only one who’ll sit for hours listening to his stories, or because she’s the King’s daughter. George was manservant to our grandfather when he was King, so George is even more old-fashioned than Alice when it comes to royalty. Dear old George! He’s gaunt and leathery-looking, pickled in salt-water and rum, but still agile and sharp-witted. And so knowledgeable about the rocks and the currents and the fish and so on – Henry and Jimmy are quite in awe of him.
    Speaking of Henry, she made a great ceremony of