The Forgotten Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

knees to trace the burro wings more closely; and he was still there when Patricia came out.
    â€˜Good morning, Anthony. Did you sleep well? Have you got some sticks? Madge seems to be in one of her moods this morning.’
    She was wearing a pretty black and white striped apron drawn in at the waist with a big bow at the back, over a simple high-necked blouse and dark skirt.
    â€˜Look at this,’ he said. ‘ Isn’t it pretty? What’s made it like this?’
    â€˜Barnacles. Haven’t you ever seen them?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜They’re big black worms with heads like mussel-shells and long ferny red tongues. The sort of thing you see in a nightmare. But Madge’Il start reading you a sermon if she doesn’t get her fire soon.’
    Breakfast was a feminine meal. Neither Perry nor Joe put in an appearance. Little Fanny arrived down red-eyed and weary as the meal was about to begin, and Anthony saw what Aunt Madge’s sermon was like when directed at someone else.
    She did not show any signs of anger. Seated in immobile serenity with a cup of tea steered unerringly from time to time to the plump little opening from which emerged so much sound, she talked on and on at Fanny in a pained rather hoarse voice with majesty and persistence. Sometimes she put an H in front of a word to give extra emphasis. Having said what she had to say, she shook her earrings, adjusted her pince-nez, and started anew. Finally Fanny burst into tears and went breakfastless to brush out the upper restaurant.
    At this Aunt Madge turned up her eyes as if in surprise at a rebuff, and poured herself another cup of tea. She had a peculiar habit of putting her eyes away under her small lids as if she were withdrawing them for inner consultation.
    â€˜Girls,’ she said to nobody. ‘Difficult. Can’t reason with. Hi try to be patient, to lead …
    Anthony was kept busy all the morning. Uncle Joe appeared, wizened and sallow, about eleven, Uncle Perry, dark-eyed and plump-faced and laughing, an hour later. Before lunch Anthony went shopping with Patricia. When it was done she hired a landau and took the boy along the sea front, past the new houses shining in the sun. The ride was in the best possible style. Pat prudently dismissed the landau a hundred yards or so from JOE VEAL’S and they reached home in time for the midday meal.
    Mrs Veal clearly suspected that they had been up to no good; she went round and round the subject while she was dishing out the stew, but they gave her no satisfaction. Finally Uncle Perry diverted her by launching into a long account of what had happened to him once in the Barbados, and Patricia caught her cousin’s eye and winked.
    The Barbados story went on indefinitely. At least, thought Anthony, Aunt Madge can cook. I shan’t starve in this house. ‘Yes,’ he said to Uncle Perry, with his mouth full. ‘No,’ he said, taking another piece of home-made bread to wipe up the gravy. And, ‘Fancy,’ he said, leaning back and wondering if the pudding would be as good.
    â€˜Fanny,’ said Aunt Madge, and waved an ostentatious hand. ‘See, if Mr Veal …’ She smoothed down the geometrical frills of her yellow silk blouse and adjusted her pince-nez to look at Patricia. ‘Hubby called this morning.’
    For the first time Anthony saw the girl’s face lose its soft contours; colour moved across her neck and cheeks.
    â€˜What did he want?’ Her voice was brittle and calm.
    â€˜Wanted to see you, of course. I told him you weren’t … Pity, I think.’ She glanced at the plate Fanny had brought back. ‘Mr Veal hasn’t eaten …’
    â€˜Mr Veal says he don’t want any pudding, mum. An’ he says two Roast Porks have gone upstairs, an’ these are the plates.’
    â€˜I’ll do them,’ said Pat, rising. It seemed as if she welcomed the opportunity of movement.
    Anthony