Aunt Maria Read Online Free PDF

again.
    â€œGive them to me,” Elaine said sternly, meeting us on the pavement outside the house. She held out a black mackintosh arm. Mum clutched the laundry defensively to her, determined not to give Elaine anything. It was ridiculous. It was only dirty sheets, after all. Elaine made her two-line smile and even laughed, a whir without the chimes! “I have a washing machine,” she said.
    Mum handed over the bundle and smiled, and it was almost normal.
    That afternoon Zoe Green turned up for best china and cake, and so did Phyllis Whatsis and another Mrs. Ur—Rosa, I think. Mum had made a cake. Aunt Maria had spent all lunchtime telling Mum it didn’t matter, to make sure Mum did, but she called out all the same while Zoe Green was kissing her, “Have you made a cake, dear?”
    Chris said loudly from his corner, “She. Has. Made. A. Cake. Or do you want me to spell it?”
    Everyone pretended not to hear, which was quite easy, because Zoe Green is quite cuckoo. She runs about and gushes in a poopling sort of voice—I can imitate it by holding my tongue between my teeth while I talk. “Stho dthis iths dhear dithul Ndaombil” she pooples. “Ndow don’d dtell mbe I dlovbe guessthing. You dwere bordn in lade DNovember. DYou’re Sthagittharius.”
    â€œNo, she’s not, she’s Libra,” said Chris. “I’m Leo.”
    But no one was listening to Chris, because Zoe Green was going on and on about horoscopes and Sagittarius, loud and long—and spitting, rather. She wears her hair in two buns, one on each ear, and long traily clothes with a patchwork jacket on top, all rather dirty. She’s the only one who looks mad. I tried several times to tell her I wasn’t born in November, but she was in an ecstasy of cusps and ruling planets, and she didn’t hear.
    â€œ Such a dear friend,” Aunt Maria said to me.
    And Phyllis Ur leaned over and whispered, “We love her so much, dear. She’s never been the same since her son—well, we won’t talk about that. But she’s a very valued member of Cranbury society.”
    They meant I was to shut up and let Z.G. go on. I looked at Chris and he looked back and then up at the ceiling. Bonkers, he meant. Then I sat there listening and wondering how it was I never seemed to talk to Chris at the moment, when I did so want to know if he really meant that about the ghost.
    Then Mum brought in the cake. Chris looked Aunt Maria in the eye and got up to pass the cake round.
    Aunt Maria said, in a sad low voice, “He’ll drop it.”
    If that wasn’t the last straw to Chris, it was when Zoe Green dived forward and peered at the slice of cake he was trying to pass her. “What’s in this? Ndothing I’mb adlerdjig to, I hobe?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” Chris said. “Those things in it that look like currants are really rabbits’ doo’s, so if you’re allergic to rabbits’ doo’s, don’t eat it.” Everyone, including Zoe Green, stared, and then began to try to pretend he hadn’t said it. But Chris seized a cup of tea and held that out, too. “How about some horse piss?” he said.
    There was a gabble of people talking about something else, in the midst of which Mum said, “Christian, I’ll—” Unfortunately, I’d just taken a mouthful of tea. I choked, and had to go out into the kitchen to cough over the sink. Through my coughings, I heard Chris’s voice again. Very loud.
    â€œThat’s right. Pretend I didn’t say it! Or why not say, ‘He’s only an adolescent, and he’s upset because his father fell off Cranbury Head’? He did, you know. Squish.” Then I heard the door slam behind him.
    Outcry. It was awful. Aunt Maria was having a screaming fit, Zoe Green was hooting like an owl. I could hear Mum crying. It was so awful I stayed in the kitchen. And it went on