The Postcard Read Online Free PDF Page B

make it your secret language. No one else will understand you. That could be fun one day.’
    Callie smiled and nodded. She was quite good at understanding Marthe, even when she spoke quickly.
    Suddenly the green fields turned to brick houses and factories, chimneys and tunnels, and they drew into Euston Station at long last. At the end of the platform, Aunt Phee was waiting, waving.
She looked quite different from the last time Callie had seen her, with a permanent wave in her short hair and a little beret clinging onto the side. She wore a short cotton shift dress that came
just to her knee, with silk stockings and heeled shoes with straps across her foot.
    ‘Look at you, like a boiled lobster in that kilt. Couldn’t you have put something thinner on the girl?’ she snapped at Marthe.
    ‘It was cool when we left, and better to save her new clothes for her holiday,’ Marthe said, looking cross.
    ‘I suppose so. Come along, we’ll get a taxi.’ Phee turned to Marthe. ‘What time’s your boat train? Might as well say goodbye here; I’ll take over now. You
might want to freshen yourself up.’
    Callie felt she was a parcel being passed across. ‘Can’t Marthe come with us?’ she asked, but Phee ignored her.
    ‘Better to split up now. I’ve got tons to do before we leave tomorrow. Well, Marthe, have a lovely holiday . . . and a safe journey. Oh, Kitty says to send her best regards to all
your family and hopes everyone is settled back home now,’ she added.
    Marthe bent to kiss Callie. ‘Be a good girl and have a wonderful time. I shall miss you.’ Her voice was trembling.
    ‘We’ll call for you on the way home, won’t we?’ Callie turned to Phee, seeing Marthe looking upset.
    ‘Of course, if there’s time. I’m sure we’ll pay a visit.’
    ‘I wish you were coming with us.’ Callie clung to her tightly. Marthe was the most important person in her life, the one true fixture both night and day. ‘I don’t want
you to go,’ she said in Flemish, and Marthe whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t worry . . . I will always be there for you.’
    ‘Don’t make a fuss,’ Phee interrupted them. ‘Marthe has her own life to lead. She doesn’t want you making a scene in public. You’ll see her again . .
.’
    Callie waved and waved as Phoebe drew her away until Marthe was lost to her in the crowds. Suddenly they were out in the bright sunlight among crawling traffic, honking horns, drays, buses,
cars. It was like Glasgow but three times as busy, with people rushing up and down the pavements. Where did they all come from? Sitting in the taxi as if they were in a bubble, Callie gazed out at
the buildings towering above her, and people staring out of bus windows. She felt very small amongst all this rush and bustle.
    Aunt Phee, however, sat back, looking relaxed. ‘Are you excited?’ she smiled.
    ‘A bit,’ Callie replied, feeling shy. ‘Where are we staying?’
    ‘In my apartment off Marylebone High Street. You’ll love it. I’ve made up your bedroom in the latest style. Tomorrow we’ve got an early start for Dover to catch the
ferry. Sailing to France, just like I did when I went to war with the concert party.’
    ‘But my French isn’t very good,’ Callie said.
    ‘You’ll know more than me, and everyone speaks English. I want to show you all the wonderful places. We’re going to have such a wonderful holiday together. A special holiday to
remember.’
    Callie said nothing, wishing she was safe back by the loch, chasing sticks with Cullein. She ought to feel excited but she didn’t. Instead she had a sick feeling in the pit of her tummy
that nothing would ever be the same again.

4
    Phoebe couldn’t sleep. The responsibility of making sure Caroline had a good holiday lay heavy on her chest. It was hot and noisy outside. She felt ashamed of pointing
out how the little girl looked in that shabby kilt and blouse, like a country mouse come up to town. That would have to change now Marthe