The Peppermint Pig Read Online Free PDF Page A

but she said nothing about it, not even to Theo. It began to seem like a rather shameful dream she had had, and like adream it would have faded away in the end if they had not met Mrs Marigold Bugg.
    That was only their fourth day in Norfolk but they had done so many things it seemed they had been there for weeks. Aunt Sarah had taken them on a tour of the Town, shown them the Assembly Rooms, the wide, paved Market Square, the beautiful church with a roof that was full of flying wooden angels, and the family graves in the churchyard. Mother’s parents were buried there, and old Granny Greengrass. Theo asked, ‘Where’s Grandpa Greengrass ?’ but Aunt Sarah didn’t answer. Instead, she hurried them back into the church and showed them the little stone statue of the Swineherd with a baby pig tucked under each arm, and told them the story they already knew, about how he had found a great treasure under an oak tree and built the church spire as a gesture of gratitude. ‘His duty to God,’ Aunt Sarah called it.
    Aunt Sarah was all duty; Aunt Harriet all temper and fun. A walk with Sarah was always a lesson; with Aunt Harriet it was an adventure. She marched them over open bare heathland and through woods and ploughed fields where they had no business to be. She had no patience with private property: notices that said TRESSPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED were invitations to her and she always carried a penknife in her pocket to help herself to whatever was going, even if it was only a turnip.
    She bought hoops for the two younger children: a wooden hoop for Poll and an iron one, with a hook called a skimmer, for Theo. ‘Wooden hoops are for girls, iron hoops for boys, don’t ask me why,’ Aunt Harriet said. Poll couldn’t make up her mind which she liked best. A wooden hoop was free-running, which was more exciting in some ways because it had a wild life of its own as it bounced in and out of the ruts in the road, but an iron one made a lovely hissing sound that turned into a singing hum if you ran fast enough. The day they met Mrs Bugg they had bowled their hoops for miles, Aunt Harriet breathless behind them, and were crossing the Square on their way home, dusty and happy and hungry for tea.
    Mrs Marigold Bugg was tall, the same thickness through from shoulders to knees. As she came towards them she seemed to sway rather than walk, with a boneless, wavy motion that made Poll think of a caterpillar. Aunt Harriet took Poll’s hand and quickened her step, and Poll had the feeling she would have marched them straight past without speaking if Mrs Bugg had not said, ‘Good afternoon, Miss Harriet, what remarkably mild weather we’re having.’
    Aunt Harriet stopped. They talked for a minute about the warm weather. Then Mrs Bugg said, ‘So these are poor Emily’s little ones!’ She gave Poll andTheo a smile that had no friendliness in it. ‘Your mother and I are old friends. It broke my heart to hear of her trouble.’
    Aunt Harriet said, ‘This is Mrs Bugg, children. She and your mother were dressmaking apprentices together.’
    Mrs Bugg weaved her head backwards and forwards. Poll thought – not a caterpillar, a snake! A snake that is going to strike! The snake hissed, ‘Poor little fatherless things!’
    Aunt Harriet held Poll’s hand so tight that the bones ground together and she had pulled the corners of her mouth down in the way she did when she was angry.
    But it was Theo who spoke. ‘We’re not fatherless, Mrs Bugg. My father is going to America to make his fortune.’
    Mrs Bugg’s thin, pale lips smiled as if she knew better. She said, in a voice that tried to be sad but had a gleeful sound running through it like a stream bubbling, ‘Poor, brave little boy! Poor Emily, too, how will she bear it? She was always so proud. And it must be a worry, Miss Harriet, for you and your sister. All this on your plate when you have enough there already! I would never have believed James would do such a thing, but I