Camellia Read Online Free PDF Page B

because she'd seen much the same thing countless times in the past. Bonny would be centre stage as always. She probably was wearing her long hair up in a ponytail and one of her dresses with a full circular skirt, a wide belt nipping her waist into a hand's span, beneath it a cancan petticoat with a hundred yards of frothy pink and white net. She would be jiving with someone, possibly that awful man who dressed like a teddy boy in a long red drape jacket and shoestring tie, unless he'd had the heave-ho recently. All the other men would be watching Bonny's legs to get a glimpse of stocking tops as she twirled.
    Who all the men were was a mystery to Camellia, they just appeared late at night, but she knew they always far outweighed the few women who came to these impromptu parties. Bonny had no women friends any longer. Auntie Pat, Babs, Freda and Janice had disappeared in the same way hot cooked meals, ironed school blouses, help with homework and nights by the television with her daughter had.
    For a year or two after John's death, some of the old friends still dropped in occasionally for a cup of tea and a chat. Superintendent Willis, Mr Dexter the dentist, and Malcolm Frazer who owned the Mermaid Inn in particular, though they never seemed to be accompanied by their wives. But gradually they'd stopped coming too, and Camellia sometimes thought she'd actually dreamt that the dining table used to be laid with starched napkins, flowers and candles and that her mother had once spent all day in the kitchen preparing special dinners for groups of friends.
    She must have fallen asleep again, for when she woke again the music was turned off and the house was quiet again, except for a thumping sound.
    She listened for a little while, trying to place where the noise was coming from. It sounded like a branch banging on a window. It wasn't at her window, and as her mother's overlooked the street and there were no trees there, it couldn't be there. But as she listened the noise grew more insistent. Puzzled Camellia got out of bed and went out onto the landing.
    Number twelve was over three hundred years old and all the rooms were on slightly different levels. At the top of the stairs was the bathroom, Camellia's room was next, up two steps there was a short passage and another step up to her mother's room which covered the entire front of the house. Next to the closed door was an even narrower staircase which led to two tiny attic rooms kept for guests. Camellia assumed the noise was coming from there. The house was prone to funny sounds, the pipes bubbled and the boards creaked. She thought perhaps one of the attic windows had been left open and the wind was banging it.
    But as she crept forward in the darkness to go up the stairs, she stopped short at another sound. It was just like a pig grunting and it was in time with the thumping!
    Her initial instinct was to run in to her mother, but as her hand closed round the door knob she suddenly realised not only that the noise was coming from within Bonny's room, but what it was. She froze, too shocked to move.
    Her knowledge of sex was scanty. She knew there was some kind of special cuddling which made babies, and if you did it when you weren't married it was very bad. She'd heard too, boys saying nasty swear words in the playground and she instinctively knew what she was hearing now was that word 'fucking'.
    As she stood there, unsure whether to burst in and stop the man from hurting her mother, she heard Bonny's voice above the grunting.
    'Harder, do it harder. I love it!'
    Camellia felt herself go hot all over, like someone had just opened a furnace door in front of her. She backed away, covering her mouth with her hands, afraid she was going to be sick.
    Back in her room, huddled up in bed, suddenly everything which had puzzled her for several years became crystal clear. Why all the old friends had stopped calling. Why the neighbours whispered behind their hands when she walked down