I'm on the train! Read Online Free PDF

Her tummy felt frothy and runny, as if Edna was beating it up with a fork, like she did with scrambled eggs.
    ‘And the mango sorbet is always very popular. In fact, it’s one of the chef’s specialities. The mangoes were flown in just this morning, madam, from Ecuador.’
    ‘Yes, I think you’d like that,’ the man said. ‘It’s rather like ice-cream .’
    It would be rude to say no, when he was taking so much trouble, so she said ‘Yes, please’, instead. And the waiter passed her a small silver dish, with three round orange balls inside. There was even a silver saucer-thing, underneath the dish, and a silver spoon with a crown on the handle, like the ones the Queen must use. The orange stuff inside the dish looked nothing like ice-cream, but perhaps it was the Queen’s ice-cream and queens ate different kinds. At Sunnyhill, ice-cream was white, not orange, and they put it out long before the meal (in plastic bowls, not silver), so it was always soft and squashy, never hard and round. She dug in the spoon, to try a bit, and it was cold, like ice-cream, but not as sweet or smooth, and there were little frozen splinters in it that made her back teeth jump.
    ‘And what for you, sir?’
    ‘I’ll have the pannacotta, please – and another bottle of wine. The Chateau Suduiraut was exceptionally good last time.’
    Pannacotta sounded weird but, when it came, it was small and pale and wobbly, like blancmange. He made her taste some, from his own spoon, which you weren’t meant to do, because it gave you germs. It didn’t taste of anything, just quiet and faint, like clouds. He also asked her to try the wine, which was yellowish, this time, instead of blackish-red. He said she’d love it, because it was sweet, but it wasn’t sweet, so he drank it all himself, again. And, although he went on talking, his words sounded rather funny now, like they’d melted in a frying-pan.
    ‘To tell the truth, Jo, when I came back to England, I felt totally adrift. I mean, I’d never so much as cleaned my own shoes or boileda bloody egg – which is why I thank God for this place. But it’s going downhill, I’m sorry to say, like everywhere else in the modern world. Once, you used to see a decent class of person here, but they tend to be more business types these days – so-called company directors, who think they own the world, but are really little more than brash young tykes. And they certainly wouldn’t want to pass the time of day with a tedious old chap like me. When I first became a member in 1986, I could count on seeing my friends, but a lot of my former chums have fallen off the twig, poor devils. In fact, sometimes I can sit here all damned day – and all evening, too – and not speak to a single soul except the staff.’
    She felt so tired, it was hard to listen. What she’d really like would be to lay her head on the tablecloth, shut her eyes and go to sleep. Last night, she hadn’t slept at all. You couldn’t sleep in London. It was too noisy and too scary and no one seemed to go to bed. But it would be rude to close her eyes while he was talking, so she left them open and thought about her mother. Perhaps tomorrow she’d bump into her, and her mother would take her home – a real home, with no rules, or pills, or punishments, or fights. And they could cuddle up together in a big, warm, comfy bed and have nice, quiet, peaceful meals. And her mother would say, ‘I’m so glad you came to find me, Jo. I don’t mind about the problems any more, so why don’t we live together, from now on?’
     
    She had never known a dinner take so long. At Sunnyhill, meals were over in ten minutes, because everybody ate fast, so they could get down from the table. But this dinner had lasted hours and, just when she thought it was finished, the waiter had asked if they would like to take their coffee upstairs in the library. Usually, you weren’t allowed to eat or drink in libraries, but this library was quite different