A City of Strangers Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mrs. Makepeace was reluctant to get on the wrong side of her neighbors, and this was confirmed by her next words.
    â€œDo you think you could come after dark? You see my own are long past school age, and if he knows you’re Michael’s teacher, and coming to see me . . . well, the long and the short of it is, he could turn nasty. He’s very quick to turn nasty, is Jack Phelan, as you may have heard, and if I’m to get anywhere with him I have to keep on the right side of him.”
    â€œOf course, I quite understand that. I live just near. Shall we say half past eight tonight?”
    â€œHappen he’ll be in t’pub by then anyway,” said Lottie Makepeace. “I’ll brew a pot of tea and we can have a talk.”
    Carol was telling Bob McEvoy all this at coffee break, as they sat companionably in two corner armchairs, when Dot Fenton breezed up.
    â€œI’ve been reading about kids like your Michael Phelan,” she said, breaking without apology into their conversation.
    â€œHe’s not mine.”
    â€œThere’s an article in The Teacher about kids with hopeless family backgrounds. All the kids turn out as you’d expect, except occasionally the one who comes through it all unscathed and becomes happy and successful. There’s a report on it—American, I think—and a book called The Invulnerable Child.”
    â€œI’d like to see the article,” said Carol, willing to go half-way to meet Dot Fenton’s change in tone.
    â€œAny way, they say what happens is, the child subconsciously discards the parents and the home and latches on to someone—a relative, or neighbor, or something—who is normal and stable and provides him with what he needs.”
    â€œMrs. Makepeace!” said Carol triumphantly.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œMichael’s next-door neighbor. Apparently he’s very fond of her and is always in there.”
    â€œThere you are, you see,” said Dot, with a nod of self-satisfaction. “That’s how it was done.”
    Carol resented Dot’s talking of Michael as if he were some kind of conjuring trick.”
    â€œThat’s all very well,” she muttered to Bob, “but I don’t see how a child can be invulnerable, do you?”

    â€œOh, Steven, I forgot to tell you,” said Evie, standing in the door of his study, her bag of books slung over her shoulder. “The girls will be coming tonight.”
    â€œIf I’d called them girls . . . ” said Steven. “Does that mean you just want me to make myself scarce, or do I have to go out?”
    â€œWell, Val and Marian never really talk freely if they know there’s a man in the house.”
    â€œSensitive friends you have.”
    â€œPig.”
    Steven Copperwhite looked at her as she turned to go. She had been hunched over a pile of Scandinavian linguistics theses at breakfast and he hadn’t seen her face.
    â€œWhat’s that on your forehead?”
    â€œOh, nothing,” said Evie, shrugging.
    â€œIt’s a scar.”
    â€œOK, it’s a scar. I had a bit of an argie-bargie with the Phelan boy last night.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell me when you came to bed.”
    â€œYou didn’t ask. Look, stop fussing, Steven, right? You’re imagining this boy as a big, strong thug. Forget it: He’s got spindle shanks, biceps like peanuts, and his Union Jack tee-shirt flaps on his skinny chest.”
    â€œBut everyone says he’s a vicious little horror.”
    â€œOh, he is that. But I can handle his like.”
    â€œIt doesn’t look like it.”
    â€œOh, he went slinking away, I can tell you,” said Evie gaily. “Look, Steven: Forget the protective chivalry bit, eh? It doesn’t suit you at all.”
    She smiled, waved, and shut the door. From the study window he watched her walk out to her little old Volkswagen. They would both be driving to the