The Pumpkin Eater Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’s taking on far more than he can chew, and he’s got to work like a nigger to do it. I don’t know anything about this … cinema business, and I haven’t got much faith in it, to tell you the truth. But I’m not going to have you trailing home with half a dozen more children in five years’ time and another messed-up marriage on your hands. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but that’s the size of it. It’s high time you saw a little sense, my girl.”
    He had never before spoken to me like this. “Jake — ” I said, “Jake — ?”
    â€œYour father’s quite right,” Jake said. “It’d make things a lot easier.”
    They sat there unmoved, looking at me.
    â€œAnyway … what about the holidays? They’d have holidays.”
    â€œThey can come here,” my father said. “Your mother loves having them, as you know.”
    â€œYou mean … they’re just going to go away. For ever. That’s what you mean, isn’t it? Why don’t we get them adopted, or something? Why don’t we
give
them away?”
    My father sighed deeply and turned back to his desk. “You’d better work this out between you,” he said. “The offer stands, that’s all I can say. Now … the next point. Where are you going to live?”
    â€œIt’ll have to be in the country,” Jake said.
    â€œYou can’t work from the country?”
    â€œAt the moment I can. Later I may have to get a room or something …”
    â€œThat’s no good,” my father said. “A man needs regular meals, someone to look after things. There’s no point in
making
difficulties for yourself, is there? You’ve got enough without that.”
    â€œI don’t quite see the alternative, sir.” The “sir” was astounding. Changed already from the man I had always known, my father suddenly seemed to grow vast, threatening, absolutely powerful.
    â€œWe’ve always lived in the country,” I said, but neither of them listened to me.
    â€œA good friend of mine happens to be an estate agent,” my father said. “He has a link-up with a firm in London. It seems there’s a lot of new planning going on and it’s possible to buy a fairly short lease on one of these old houses for quite a reasonable sum. Here’s one, for instance. Have a look at it. It’ll pretty well clean me out, mind you, but I’d sooner you had it now, while you need it, than wait until I’m dead.”
    â€œI don’t know why you should — ”
    â€œIf I’d had a son,” my father said, “I’d have known how to bring him up. No problem. We failed with this girl here. There’s no question of it, we failed. It’s time she had a firm hand on her tiller, and I’ve got a strong notion that you’re the chap to put it there.”
    â€œI’m
here
!” I said. “Why can’t you talk to
me
?”
    My father leant over and patted Jake’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said. “Good luck, my boy, you need it.”
    After the wedding, we had a party. The caterers brought small chicken sandwiches, trifle and champagne. Everyone was very happy. My mother cried, as usual, and my father clasped Jake’s hand, speechless, as though he were about to take off into orbit. The children, who were being looked after for the day by my mother’s Mrs. Norris, sent us Greetings telegrams. A fortnight later the three eldest went to boarding school.
    We moved into the house my father had found for us, and the surviving children came up by train. They had a great deal of luggage, for I insisted that they brought everything: clothes and sticks, toys, pots, Malt, books, diaries, horseshoes, conkers, ribbon and string and a shedful of punctured bicycles. They invaded the local schools, where they were known collectively as the Armitages, so that for