Paradise Lodge Read Online Free PDF Page A

telly on?’ I asked, thinking he might not have noticed the portable set on the chest opposite. ‘It might be
The Two Ronnies
or
Des O’Connor
.’
    â€˜No thank you. I’m a bit tired for television this evening,’ he said, then quickly added, ‘but do put it on, if you’d like it.’
    It struck me that Mr Simmons seemed very young to be here and not at all like the other patients. And as I was thinking that about him he was thinking the same about me.
    â€˜You seem rather young to be working here,’ he said, ‘if you don’t mind my saying.’
    â€˜I’m still at school. Actually, I’m a pupil at Devlin’s School—where your relative works,’ I said.
    â€˜Oh,’ he said, ‘bad luck.’ And we both laughed.
    â€˜You seem much younger than the other patients,’ I said.
    â€˜Yes, well, I’m not all that much younger, but I suppose the others here are mostly Victorian, whereas I’m from the modern age—that’s the difference.’
    â€˜Oh,’ I said.
    â€˜I’m aware of Elvis, for instance,’ he said, ‘Elvis Presley.’
    And we chatted more about the modern age.
    By the time I got back down to the kitchen the day was over. The Owner’s Wife was warming milk on the Aga for the bedtime drinks, I’d missed my lift home with Miranda in Mike Yu’s car, and the day nurses were getting ready to go to the pub. It was like watching a
Play for Today
where the actors are that good you can’t see the acting and though nothing’s actually happening, story-wise, you want to watch.
    The Crazy Baby tongs were passed from one to the other and newly formed curls sprayed with Harmony hairspray. Tubes of mascara bobbed in a Pyrex jug of boiling water, cigarettes were lit from other cigarettes and the room filled with smoke, eau de cologne and the sound of chatter, laughter and scraping chairs.
    The Owner’s Wife spoke to me while she arranged teacups on to trays. She told me that the nurses’ dresses in small sizes were like gold dust. ‘I should hang on to that one, if it fits well, and put your name in it.’
    â€˜I’ll keep it on and surprise my mum with it,’ I said.
    â€˜Good idea,’ she said, ‘and I’m definitely going to give your shampoo a try.’
    â€˜Linco Beer shampoo,’ I said, just to make sure she’d got the name straight in her head.
    â€˜Thank you, Lizzie, I know you’re going to be a real asset,’ she said, ‘I’m just so glad you’re here.’
    And, not knowing quite how to respond, I said, ‘And I’m so glad
you’re
here.’
    I wished I hadn’t said that because it seemed to choke her and later I couldn’t think why I’d said it at all.
    On the way out, through the corridor at the back, I took another peek into the morgue. This time there was something on the bench. I peered in and gasped as I realized it was a body covered with a sheet. A bluish foot poked out. The paper luggage tag hanging from the big toe read:
Cresswell
.

3. Home Life
    It was true about the Linco Beer shampoo—it really did make your hair feel lovely—and of course I was going to get my own little barrel at my earliest convenience, and other items previously mentioned. But now, knowing I could just walk into Boot’s the Chemist and buy it and have enough change for a Bronnley lemon soap-on-a-rope, it seemed less urgent. And then, acknowledging that somehow led me to face up to the fact that things weren’t going terribly well, school-wise. I’d got into a bit of a mess and no amount of decent coffee or shampoo was going to help. I’d taken a few days off—for personal reasons—and found myself irretrievably behind in some subjects. Being behind at school is an uncomfortable place to be, especially if you’re not used to it. The eagerness to please that had spurred me all