Pigeon Summer Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mum.
    But next morning everything was changed. The postman came, bringing a letter from Dad. Mary and Lennie watched as Mum tore it open. Inside was a postal order for four pounds, a one shilling coin, and a letter.
    “Four pounds!” Mum scanned the letter quickly. “That’s two weeks pay … he’s got a labouring job … temporary, but he’ll keep looking around, like … he’ll send more next week… He says, Mary, the shilling is for pigeon feed. He doesn’t say where he’s sleeping. I hope it’s somewhere decent.”
    She stood holding the postal order and staring at it as if afraid it would disappear.
    Suddenly she laughed and hugged both children to her. “We’ll have fish and chips tonight, shall we? Here, take your shilling, Mary, for the pigeons. Don’t lose it.”
    Mary took the shilling and put it quickly in her pocket. She had half expected Mum to keep it, but the postal order had made her generous. That, and Phyl coming next weekend. It was her Sunday off, and she would bring her wages.
    Mary went to school. To her relief, Arnold Revell ignored her, not even catching her eye. When she got home there was a warm, greasy fish and chip smell in the kitchen. What was more, Mum had bought an orange. She gave it to Lennie and Mary to share.
    Mary broke her half into segments and ate it slowly, savouring the sharp, fresh taste. She pushed half the pieces to one side and said to her mother, “You have some.”
    Mum shook her head.
    “Go on,” insisted Mary.
    “All right, just one.” Mum took one segment. Mary ate the others with a guilty feeling of relief.
    Mum smiled. “I’ve finished that frock. You can try it on after tea.”
    Mary had to admit, standing in her mother’s bedroom in front of the mirror, that the dress fitted her; and it was more comfortable under the arms than the old, tight one. But the old one had been blue flowered cotton and she had felt pretty in it. She hated this one: the dark plain colour, the crêpy material.
    Mum stood up from where she had been adjusting the hem. She looked doubtful. “What do you think?”
    “It’s sort of floppy,” said Mary, trying not to be too discouraging, since her mother had spent time altering it.
    “It doesn’t flatter you,” Mum admitted. She sighed. “But it fits. It’ll have to do.”
    The maroon frock was the first bad thing that happened that week. The second was Arnold Revell speaking to her at school.
    It was during the last break time on Wednesday. Mary was leaning against the wall in the playground with Olive, watching a skipping game and sucking a sherbet lemon. She had just bitten through the crisp shell of the lemon when she felt Olive nudge her. Arnold Revell was coming across the playground, heading straight towards them.
    He stopped in front of Mary.
    “Come round our place tonight,” he said, “Got something to show you.”
    Then he turned away.
    Olive exploded with laughter, spraying the scent of lemon around. “Hey, Mary, was he talking to you?”
    “I don’t know!” Mary exclaimed. She staggered against Olive, giggling, desperate to convince her friend that she had never spoken to Arnold before.
    Arnold must have heard them, but he gave no sign. He just walked away.
    Olive called to Doris Brown and Edna Johnson, who were standing nearby. “Did you hear that? Arnold Revell asked Mary out!”
    “He didn’t!” insisted Mary, as Doris shrieked with laughter. The girls began exclaiming about the cheek of boys in general and of Arnold Revell in particular. Mary joined in.
    Afterwards, sitting in the classroom, she glanced at Arnold and felt ashamed. But he shouldn’t have spoken to her, she thought, defending her betrayal; especially not in front of the other girls. And it was only then that she wondered: what does he want to show me, anyway?
    Mary didn’t go to the Revells after school. She went home, had her tea, then hurried to the loft to get Blériot, Thunder and Speedwell ready for the race. First, she