Facing the Light Read Online Free PDF

looked just like the real thing: weathered and rough; the authentic slatey-yellow of proper tiles.
    Rilla suddenly thought what a sensation it would cause among art critics if they could see it. It must be worth a small fortune. How come her own stepdaughter Beth never spoke about it these days? Why didn’t Gwen’s children, particularly Efe (who was very mercenary, it seemed to Rilla, always fascinated by the price of things), realize what a treasure was stashed away up here?
    The dolls were all present and correct. Queen Margarita (whom Gwen called Mrs Delacourt) and her husband, and the two children, Lucinda and Lucas (Dora and Dominic for Gwen) and the maid, who was called Philpott by both of them. They were all peg dolls with painted faces and unmoving bodies, but what life they’d breathed into them! Rilla had known what they thought and felt and wanted to do. She tidied their house, and arranged meals for them on their little table, but Gwen always said she did everything wrong, and once she pushed Rilla out of the way so roughly that she’d bumped her head on the runners of the rocking-horse and cried for hours.
Serve you right
. Rilla could remember to this day what Gwen had shouted at her then.
You shouldn’t have moved them. I put them where they’re
supposed to be, and you moved them. You mustn’t, that’s all
.
    â€˜We did have fun with them, didn’t we?’ she said to Gwen.
    â€˜Yes, of course we did.’ Gwen stood up again. ‘Even though I seem to remember I always thought you got things wrong constantly. I suppose I wanted it all to myself. Didn’t want to share it. Aren’t children horrible a lot of the time?’
    â€˜Not me! I was totally lovable!’
    â€˜That’s what you think!’ Gwen was laughing. ‘I know I’ve just denied wanting to murder you, but what
is
true is that you could be a real pest. But I suppose I was a bit bossy, wasn’t I?’
    â€˜A confession! Wonders never cease, Gwen.’
    Rilla stood up and lifted the sheet to cover everything again. The outline of the roof was sharp against the dark paper of the wall, and under the white avalanche she’d just created the dolls lay quietly. For a split second, Rilla found herself wondering what they thought of the whiteness blocking their windows. She laughed out loud, wondering whether this could be the onset of the menopause.
You’re losing it, Mum!
was something Beth sometimes said to her, affectionately.
    â€˜Come down when you’ve unpacked,’ Gwen said, ‘and I’ll go and see to the drinks. It’s going to be such fun, Rilla, isn’t it? This party?’
    â€˜It’ll be great,’ Rilla answered, and felt that she was telling no more than the truth.
    *
    â€˜And where’, said Leonora, turning to Gwen, ‘are you putting Chloë and her young man? What’s his name? Philip something. Smart, that’s it. Doesn’t he do something rather fascinating for a living?’ She took a sip of wine from her glass and applied herself to buttering a Bath Oliver and arranging dainty crumbs of Stilton on it.
    â€˜He’s a picture restorer. He works at the V & A, I think, though of course, he’s very young and junior. Chloë says he’s longing to see the Willow Court paintings.’
    The last of the evening sunshine found its way into the dining room, glancing off the yellow velvet curtains and falling on to the window seat where Gus, one of Leonora’s two cats, lay curled up like a furry marmalade-coloured cushion. His brother, Bertie, was fond of soft duvets and only came downstairs when hunger called him to the kitchen.
    â€˜In my old room,’ said Gwen. ‘Chloë’s always liked it.’
    Rilla concentrated on peeling an apple. It had only been her and Gwen and Leonora at dinner, after all. There was no sign of James anywhere. As though she were reading Rilla’s mind,