Camellia Read Online Free PDF Page A

by hers. Even the bed smelled of them both, a whiff of Daddy's hair oil on his pillow, perfume on Mummy's. At weekends Camellia always got into bed between them in the mornings and over a cup of tea all three would discuss jobs to be done, places they wanted to go. But now as she lay there, her father's scent filling her nostrils, snippets of overheard adult remarks made during the afternoon and evening buzzing in her head, all at once she understood that everything which just this morning had seemed so permanent and secure, was shattered.
    It was four weeks after her father's funeral when Camellia heard her mother and Granny arguing up in the big bedroom as she sat downstairs doing some crayoning. Camellia didn't want to listen, but she couldn't help it, their voices filled the small house.
    'I won't have you speaking to me like this,' Granny said, her voice quivering as if she were crying. 'I came here to help, but I can't do that unless you co-operate.'
    'Clear off back to London,' Bonny screamed at her. 'All you've done is criticise and fuss round me. I'm trying to get back to normal, but you won't let me.'
    'You can't go out wearing a pink dress so soon after being widowed,' Granny retorted. 'What will people think?'
    'I don't care what they think,' Bonny's voice rose even higher. 'I'm sick of looking like an old hag, sick of staying in with you while you clean, dust, wash and witter on like a frustrated mother hen. I'm sick of everything.'
    Camellia began to cry. She was slowly accepting that without Daddy nothing would ever be quite the same, but she couldn't understand why her mother was so nasty to Granny. She alone had made everything seem just a bit better, she cooked and cleaned, she took Camellia down to the swings on The Salts, took her to school and taught her to knit and sew in the evenings. She was a bit of a fusspot, but she was kind and loving.
    Until her father's death 'Granny' had just been the name of a faceless person who sent hand-knitted cardigans and beautifully dressed dolls for birthdays and Christmas. For some unexplained reason she hadn't visited before, at least not in Camellia's memory anyway, until her son-in-law's death. But now Camellia had got to know the old lady, she didn't want her to leave.
    'I will go home if that's what you want,' Granny said, but now her voice rose too as if she were losing her temper. 'I've never understood you, Bonny. I've given you everything, I never thought of myself. You're nothing but a selfish, hardhearted little baggage. Those tears aren't for John, just for yourself. You ought to get down on your knees and thank the Lord for the good years he gave you, for Camellia and your beautiful home. What did I have when Arnold died? A council house, a daughter who couldn't care less about me and a widow's pension. But I didn't mind about that, I just missed Arnold and I still do.'
    The quarrelling finally stopped, but it was some ten minutes before Granny came downstairs. She had put some powder on her face, but her eyes were still puffy. She smiled at Camellia sitting on the settee, but her weak attempt at normality didn't fool the bright six-year-old.
    'Don't go, Granny,' Camellia implored her. 'I' like you being here.'
    'I have to go, my lovely.' Granny flopped down on the settee and took her on her lap. 'Maybe Mummy will be better once I'm gone. She won't listen to me about anything, and I can't do any more.'
    Camellia had no argument to come back with. She cuddled into the woman's arms, wishing she could think of something to say to both older women to make things right.
    'How will we manage without you?' Camellia asked. It wasn't so long ago that her mother had stayed in bed all day, even now she left everything to Granny. 'Will Mummy make the meals and do the shopping again?'
    'I'm sure she will.' The older woman sniffed. 'She'll have to, won't she?'
    'I miss Daddy dreadfully,' Camellia blurted out, knowing somehow that saying such a thing to her mother would