Forgotten Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

thinking it beneath his dignity to make fun of a child so much younger than himself, so she had put her request to him with more hope than she would have done a year earlier. Baz had stared at her hard, his black eyes curious. ‘Why?’ he had demanded brusquely. ‘Rhyl’s a grand place. The sand is all covered with little shells, and there’s pools for the young kids to paddle in, and the lovely shallow sea for us big ’uns. And the amusements is great. There’s a shootin’ gallery, penny falls, grab a gift and peep shows: what the butler saw and that. I’ve been saving up me paper round money for weeks.’ He stared even harder at his small companion. ‘Your mammy won’t stop you going, you little idiot: is that what you’re feared of?’
    Lottie had hesitated. You could never tell with Baz. Sometimes he was really nice but he could be such a beast. However, there was no sense in lying; truth will always out, and generally when it could cause you the most embarrassment, she reminded herself.
    ‘Well? Is you goin’ to tell me or ain’t you?’
    ‘I am,’ Lottie had said resignedly. ‘Before we came to Liverpool, we were in Rhyl. Mam was working for another magician but she’d heard your dad wanted an assistant and the Rhyl magician was mean to her. So we ran away from Rhyl and came to Liverpool, and Mam – Louella, I mean – won’t ever go back there in case the magician kills ’er.’
    Baz had guffawed noisily. ‘Stupid little halfwit. Of course he won’t kill her. And anyway, he was with the circus, wasn’t he? Circuses move on. They don’t stick around in one spot.’
    ‘I thought we were at the Pavilion, Louella and me,’ Lottie had said. ‘Well if you’re right and he’s moved on then I dare say Louella would let me go to Rhyl. But I’d still feel happier if you’d not tell her, Baz. Remember last year?’
    The school trip the previous year had been to New Brighton, but at the last minute Louella had decided that her daughter should not go. She had said that the fair at New Brighton was a rough place, and the teachers would have their hands full and might not be able to supervise the children properly. Lottie had been bitterly disappointed but there had been nothing she could do about it. This time, she had told her mother bluntly that she did not mean to miss out because the other kids had had such a good time the previous year. Louella had stared at her, round-eyed. ‘I wouldn’t stop you going, pet; Llandudno is a most respectable resort,’ she had said. ‘I’ll give you half a crown to spend on the pier and when you get home you can tell me all about it.’
    That had sounded perfectly reasonable but Lottie was taking no chances. ‘Please, Baz, don’t forget last year,’ she had said again. ‘She wouldn’t let me go to New Brighton, remember . . .’
    ‘Oh, awright, no need to run on,’ Baz had said impatiently. ‘I won’t tell on you and that’s a promise.’
    And so far, Lottie knew, he had kept his word. So now she started down the stairs, no longer worrying that the treat might be snatched from her. It was early still and the kitchen was deserted, but there was nothing strange in that. Lottie always cooked the breakfast porridge for herself and Baz because Louella and Max seldom got up before mid-morning, and the youngsters had to be in school by nine. Baz usually made the toast, squatting on his haunches and holding out the slices of bread, impaled on a toasting fork, towards the fire. He complained in summer that it was a horrible job and that he’d far rather make the porridge, but on the only occasion upon which he had insisted upon changing he had somehow managed to produce a panful half burnt, half raw and full of lumps. So now each did their own task without more than a token grumble.
    The porridge was actually in the bowls and the tea steaming in the mugs when Baz bounced into the kitchen. He grinned at Lottie and sat down at the table, beginning to eat at