Frozen Music Read Online Free PDF Page B

he had finished eating he washed his plate and cup, and wiped the green oilcloth that covered the table. Then, at last, he was ready to start work.
    Seated at his desk, he opened the first page of the notebook and wrote:
My Life as It Ought to Be: A Young Boy’s Wonderful Adventures (in pictures
).
    In the summer I got a puppy, a little West Highland called Laurence, after Laurence Olivier. I had wanted to call him Jumble after William Brown’s dog in the
Just William
stories, but Audrey got her way. I often heard people complain that these days children got their way far too much; well, all I can say is that they had not met Audrey. No matter, both Audrey and Madox had assured me that Laurence was mostly my dog, almost entirely, in fact. The only problem was to convince Laurence. I loved him. I had wanted a dog for as long as I could remember, a big dog who would be my best friend and who went on adventures with me. What kind of adventures I had not decided, but they invariably involved a well-filled picnic basket and a dog on whose powerful head I could rest my hand. Now Laurence was small, and if I tried to rest my hand on his neck we’d both most probably collapse on the floor, but he was
my
dog, almost. Right now, out here on the wide lawn he was making a huge fuss over Granny Billings who didn’t even like dogs. Deep inside me a little seed of resentment sprouted a green leaf of jealousy. Why, when I loved Laurence so much, did he seem to love almost everyone better than me?
    â€˜Come here, boy?’ I bent down and slapped my knees, encouraging my puppy towards me. Laurence, who was busy flirting with Granny Billings’s left leg, turned his head for a second before rolling over on his back and wriggling wildly, his eyes, their whites showing, fixed on the adored object of Granny Billings.
    â€˜Come on, boy!’ I tried, humiliation making my cheeks hot.
    â€˜Oh, do give up, Esther.’ Audrey sipped her iced coffee in the dappled shade of the large beech tree. ‘Why don’t you run along and wash your hands. Lunch will be soon.’
    I washed my hands in the china basin in the little bedroom that was mine during my visits to the country. Through the open window I could hear my mother telling Laurence not to be a pest. Pigotty in my arms, I sat back in the small wicker armchair and picked up my book, resting it on Pigotty’s ample back. Why couldn’t Laurence be more like Joey, the dog in the book? Joey loved his owner, a girl called Georgie, and never left her side. In fact, he had been repeatedly punished by Georgie’s unsympathetic aunt, with whom they lived, forrefusing to leave his place by Georgie’s bedroom door at night to sleep downstairs in the scullery where he was supposed to. In the mornings Georgie was woken by Joey’s rough tongue licking her face and all day long they played together in the fields. I craned my neck to look out of the open window to the garden below. There was Laurence standing on his hind legs, trying in vain to impress Audrey. Letting her hand drop, she absentmindedly scratched Laurence’s head and Laurence, beside himself with excitement, got down on all fours spinning round and round, chasing his tail. I turned back to my book, Laurence’s excited yelps ringing in my ears.
    Joey’s devotion to his owner was matched by Georgie’s faithfulness to him.
Georgie did not need other friends and she despised toys. What would she want with toys when she had Joey? No, Georgie wanted no one but Joey
.
    I read that last line over and over again, Pigotty clutched to my stomach. There it was. How could I expect poor Laurence to be my best friend when I was so faithless. I had quite a few friends, usually, and I most certainly did not despise toys. I looked down and there was Pigotty. I clutched him tight to my chest, rubbing my cheek against the rough red cotton of his back. Pigotty was uncharacteristically