Bone China Read Online Free PDF Page B

shortly, ‘I’ve got overtime.’
    Since leaving their old home, since he had turned sixteen, Jacob had been working for the Ceylon Tea Board. He was almost nineteen now and he detested Colombo. The trees here were dull green and dirty and the air, when it was not filled with water, was choked with the dust from the spice mills. His childhood was finished and the life that he had so loved gone with it. There was nothing more to say on the subject. These days his only ambition was to leave this wretched place and sail away to the United Kingdom. Life there, so he’d been led to believe, was much better. Just as soon as the war was over he planned to escape.
    ‘Why don’t you get a job instead of loafing around,’ he asked, his irritation barely concealed.
    Thornton had stared dreamily at the sea. It lay like a ploughed field beyond the harbour wall and the day was thick and dazzling and humid. It was far too hot to argue. The air had compressed and solidified into a block of heat. It pressed against Thornton, reminding him once again of the girl with the limeade drink. Her dress had been made of a semi-transparent material that clung to her as she walked, hinting of other, interesting things. He imagined brushing his hands against her hips. Or maybe even, he thought, maybe, her neck. Thornton had a strong feeling that a poem was just beginning to develop. Something about breasts, he thought, smiling warmly to himself. And soft, rosy lips.
    ‘Thornton.’ Jacob’s irritation had cut across this delicious daydream. ‘It’s no joke, you know. You have to plan your future. It won’t simply happen. Don’t you want your own money?’
    What? thought Thornton, confused. All around him the heat shimmered with hormonal promise. His brother’s voice buzzed like a fly against his ear. I wonder if I’ll be allowed to go to theconcert on my own, he thought, whistling the snatch of jazz he had heard earlier. No, he decided, that’s not quite right. I haven’t got the timing right. When I get back, if Alicia has finished on the piano I’ll try to play it by ear.
    ‘Or are you planning on taking up gambling? Carrying on the family tradition perhaps?’ Jacob had continued, unable to let the subject go.
    ‘Oh God, Jacob!’ Thornton had laughed, refusing to be drawn. ‘Life is not simply about making money. I keep telling you, I’m a poet.’
    ‘What does that mean, apart from loafing around?’
    Thornton had done an impromptu tap dance. Sunlight sparkled on the water.
    ‘I’m not loafing around! This is how I get my experience,’ he said, waving his hands at the activity in front of them. ‘There is a purpose to everything I do. Can’t you see?’
    ‘You’re getting worse,’ Jacob had said gloomily, throwing some crumbs at the seagulls.
    Thornton, trying not to laugh again, had decided: his brother simply had no soul.
    ‘I’ve sent another poem to the Daily News ,’ he offered. ‘It’s about fishermen. Maybe it will get published. Who knows? Then I’ll be rich and famous!’
    ‘That proves it,’ Jacob told him, satisfied. ‘You’re a complete idiot!’
    Having finished his lunch, having had enough, he stood up.
    ‘Right,’ he said briskly, ‘I must get back to work. You should think about what I said. I could get you a job here, you know.’
    And he was gone, leaving Thornton to his daydreams.
    Having washed her face and feeling a little cooler, Myrtle went to the kitchen in search of a piece of cake. From the sound ofthe jazz being played she guessed Thornton was back. Myrtle pursed her lips. The boy was always playing jazz, or swimming, or wandering aimlessly around Colombo. In the past, whenever she had tried tackling Grace on the subject of Thornton’s laziness, it had had no effect. Grace merely smiled indulgently; Thornton could do no wrong.
    ‘He’s still young,’ was all she said in a voice that brooked no argument.
    Myrtle had given up. Thornton would learn a lesson one day. She had seen