Dolly's Mixture Read Online Free PDF Page B

misunderstood, he had the capacity for making people laugh, whatever their class or intellect.
    William had one annoying habit, however, and it was difficult to cure him of this. He would invite upstairs to our flat whoever called at our door when the shop was closed, and it was not always convenient. One Bank Holiday we had closed the shop for three whole days and on the first day had picnicked at a beauty spot in the country. That year the weather had been wet and humid and unfortunately we had chosen the wrong venue for our jaunt, for I was literally smothered with mosquito bites which had turned into vicious blisters. Chas had been bitten on the top halves of both ears. The next day, Susan being away for the weekend, the three of us were alone, and by evening I was in agony with my bites. I looked and felt ghastly, and the only way I could sit about comfortably was to discard clothing. It was impossible to do this completely but I put on a sleeveless, low-necked, airy-fairy nightdress, frothy and frilly from low neck to short hem. Someone had bought this for me at Christmas; it was definitely not me. Chas had anointed the top halves of his ears with some dead-white medication and looked like a creature from a science fiction film.
    At 10 p.m., when we were just deciding to retire for the night, the doorbell rang. William dashed downstairs and, to our utter horror, returned with a boy of his own age – and an elegantly dressed lady. Apparently the youngster was a friend and the lady his friend’s mother. She was very embarrassed, not only at viewing William’s unconventional-looking Mum and Dad but also at the late hour of calling. Apparently some major event was in the offing and she had called with an invitation for William to join them. She spoke in the high falutin’ tones of the upper classes. This tone of speech had all my life thrown me in some strange way, making my mind numb and causing me to have to search for the most ordinary words with which to speak or describe things.
    On my lap I had a tray bearing a cup of tea and a plate with a slice of bread and butter and a cold sausage. Chas, hospitable at all times, went into the kitchen and returned bearing the same tray-loads for our guests. It never occurred to him that such cold comestibles, in such surroundings, with disease-ridden hosts, might literally be difficult for such elegant and immaculate-looking people to swallow. At the very least, the cold, wrinkled sausages hardly looked appetising. Suddenly I remembered William telling me that his friend’s grandfather, a surgeon, an elderly gentleman over eighty, had not been well, and in my best hostess manner I said to the lady, ‘How is your father?’ ‘His speech is somewhat slurred and he says strange things,’ replied the lady. ‘Oh,’ said my son, ‘the hot weather does affect elderly people; you might observe that from my parents, for my mother appears to be auditioning for Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire , while my father relaxes there with half-embalmed ears.’
    For one awful moment there was silence. I felt dreadful. Then the elegant lady collapsed into peals of uncontrollable laughter. In the end we all thoroughly enjoyed our evening, or, rather, night, for our guests were unable to tear themselves away until well after midnight, and we all became great friends.
    But of course I knew that William just had to come to terms with conventional schooling to be a success (get it down on paper) and to this end I sought the advice of a lady in the world of education whom I’d met through the hospital doctor who had been enamoured of my son. She recommended a private school. After the initial shock Chas said, Yes of course he would pay for private education if that was the best for our boy. Here was the problem, for it was thought he should not board, he needed the security and privacy of his own home. Then the educational lady had a bright idea.