Birmingham Friends Read Online Free PDF Page B

her eyes closed. ‘Lucky old you,’ she said in a bored voice. I felt rather hurt and didn’t bother telling her any more.
    She’d never explained what she meant about her parents, I thought, lying on the warm bed. Perhaps it wasn’t anything. Maybe it was just one of those Olivia things to say, making a drama out of nothing much.
    ‘Livy?’ I lifted my head, resting it sideways on my tanned arm.
    ‘Mmm?’
    ‘Let’s take the boat out later?’
    Olivia nodded, eyes closed.
    I took a deep, contented breath, enjoying the smells of the little hotel: floor polish and cabbage and Rinso on the sheets. I’d have liked Angus to see the place. In fact I was feeling so well disposed towards everyone that I’d almost have liked William to be there.
    I knew Olivia’s parents were having a rest in the next room. They had the very end room along the corridor facing the sea, and ours was next to it. A touch ashamed of myself I tried to imagine Alec and Elizabeth Kemp lying together on the bed which I’d glimpsed that morning through their door. Elizabeth would have unpinned her soft, fair hair. Perhaps she would have changed into a loose gown for taking a rest. My imagination skated quickly over Elizabeth’s slight body. Beside her I pictured Alec’s darker, more robust one. His handsome face with those brown dancing eyes would be close to Elizabeth’s. Was he leaning over her? I wondered. I thought I could hear their voices through the wall. Was he about to kiss her? Would he then do that to her? What Granny Munro had told me about that I knew my parents could not bring themselves to mention?
    For a moment I allowed myself to imagine Alec Kemp leaning over me, his lips moving closer to mine . . . Of course Alec was my best friend’s father and I was a rather lumpish fourteen-year-old with thick spectacles. But he was also the prince in every story. Kiss any frog, I thought, and it would transform instantly into Alec Kemp.
    I heard a door open, close again. Growing sleepy I followed the faded pattern of dog roses and convolvulus on the wallpaper, hearing the rustle of the sea. As my eyes closed and I began to drift into sleep I heard noises from next door and was suddenly awake again. The sounds were soon unmistakable. I held my body absolutely still, listening, me heart starting to beat very fast. The sound of weeping was so desolate, so intense, and it could only be coming from Elizabeth Kemp. At first her crying was quiet and muffled. I waited, expecting to hear Alec’s voice comforting her, but there was nothing except these terrible broken cries. For a few moments Elizabeth sobbed loudly and uncontrollably before the sounds died down. Then there was silence.

    When I woke, Olivia had already gone.
    I stood by the window, enjoying the salty air and looking for her. From below came the sounds of children shouting, a dog barking, a boat’s engine in the distance somewhere. The hotel was sited in the angle of a narrow bay with only a few cottages for company and a narrow road passing through. Round the headland was a small holiday town, which could be reached by the road or a short ferry ride.
    The tide was out and shadows from the cliffs were already beginning to edge across the sand. Everything had turned the richer colours of late afternoon and children were busy digging on the wide shiny platter which was now the lower half of the beach.
    The memory of Elizabeth Kemp’s crying shifted uneasily round my mind. I had always liked Elizabeth. She was very gentle, a timid person who I had scarcely heard utter an angry word since I’d known her. She wasn’t a vibrant woman. She was unsure of herself and she provided a counterbalance to Alec, his restlessness and drive. But there was a sweetness about her and she always gave me a warm welcome. Above all she obviously loved and admired her successful husband with wholehearted devotion. So what could have brought on such broken-sounding grief? I tried to persuade myself