The Children of the King Read Online Free PDF Page A

her hands.
    The staircase was grand, very wide at its foot, much narrower at its peak. It was like climbing a polished mountain. Cecily hauled herself up by the banister, beckoning the evacuee along. When they reached the summit of the landing, the window showed a view across pastures coloured like a bruise, purple and yellow and green. Daylight was waning, evening was near.
    Jeremy and Cecily had been coming to Heron Hall all their lives, and each had a favourite bedroom they considered their own. May Bright followed Cecily along the passage, her blue gaze taking in everything. She bumped into Cecily when the older girl stopped. “This is mine.” Pushing back a door revealed a spacious room with a carved fireplace and a rose-coloured quilt on the four-poster bed. A fire had been lit to take the chill off the air, and on the dresser stood a vat of water beside a folded towel.
    May peeked around the door frame. “Pretty.”
    “It’s lovely! I bet you’ve never seen such a lovely room. I bet you’ve never been inside a house as grand as this, have you? You must feel like you’re having a dream. You could have your own bedroom, but you’ll probably want to share with me. They’ll bring a little cot for you and put it in the corner.”
    “Can I have my own room?”
    Cecily looked at the girl. “Don’t you want to share?”
    “Well — at home I have my own room. I’m used to it.”
    Cecily had envisaged the two of them tucked up at night, giggling and whispering until sleep claimed them. It was disappointing to have the vision extinguished, and she wished she hadn’t given her guest the choice. “I’ll tell Mrs Winter.”
    “My suitcase is in the car. Shall I fetch it?”
    Cecily, whose affection for the evacuee had taken a knock, felt a healing surge of fondness for her. “Someone will bring it, don’t worry about things like that.” Suddenly charged, she made a swooping run into the room, flying like a cannonball onto the bed. “Somebody will
bring it
! Haven’t you heard of staff? Don’t tell me you don’t have them at your house?”
    It was an ugly thing to say, and Cecily knew it. She held her breath and glared at the ceiling as the girl crossed the room. Her legs were thin and her feet made no sound when they touched the floor. She stopped at the window and scanned the horizon. In the fireplace, something popped. “There’s a lake out there,” she remarked.
    “Heron Lake,” said Cecily dully. “Where the herons live.”
    “I’ve never been to the country.”
    “What?” Cecily rolled onto her stomach. “Never?”
    “I once went to the beach for a holiday. But never to the countryside.”
    “Amazing!” Cecily genuinely thought it was. Everyone she knew passed at least a few weeks of each year in fine houses dotted around the landscape, riding ponies, eating too much, taking strolls, growing bored. It was a pleasant thing required to be done. “I feel sorry for you.”
    “I liked the beach.” The girl curled a knuckle on the glass. “My family doesn’t have lots of money, like yours does.”
    It was a new sensation for Cecily, to feel awkward about being well-off. Once again she wondered if she’d made a bad choice in evacuee. “I can’t help it. It isn’t my fault. Anyway, some people are much richer than we are. Compared to some people, we’re
poor
. . .”
    May said, “I can fetch my case, I don’t mind.”
    “Somebody will bring it!” Cecily blasted it like a bellows. “They have to — they always do — it’s the rule!” And buried her face in her arms. May Bright seemed a cranky kind of child, the type who listened too closely to what was said, who asked a lot of questions and made it necessary for a speaker to think before speaking: the future felt utterly spoiled. Perhaps the girl could be exchanged, or maybe it was safer just to return her and go without. Kindness to strangers evidently carried no guarantee of being repaid. Deflated, Cecily’s thoughts went to