The Runaway Read Online Free PDF Page B

sounds of London.
    â€˜Have you?’ Mrs Ramsay was busy lighting another cigarette. Clicking away on her lighter, she at last got a flame. ‘Why?’ She blew out smoke and pocketed the lighter.
    â€˜I don’t want to go to the police party.’ Stella felt as if she was floating above her body; her boots, smeared with mud, were far below. She stamped her feet to anchor herself.
    â€˜I love parties.’ Mrs Ramsay addressed the glowing tip of her cigarette. ‘I’ve been organizing one for my birthday. Caterers, and my artist friend is doing the invitations.’
    â€˜When is your birthday?’
    â€˜Today. Cards, flowers, fuss!’
    Mrs Ramsay looked out at the river for so long that Stella decided she had forgotten Stella was there. Partly to remind her and partly because she liked her, she said, ‘Happy birthday.’
    The lady chucked her cigarette on to the mud although she had hardly smoked it. ‘Nearly forty is too old to celebrate!’ She did another walk round her circle.
    A nursery rhyme popped into Stella’s mind.
    Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
    A pocket full of posies…
    â€˜But you’re having a party!’ Stella dismissed the stupid song. ‘Mum says twenty-seven is old and she must snatch the chance of a fresh start before it’s too late.’ Stella was impressed by Mrs Ramsay’s age and privately agreed that ‘nearly forty’ was old.
    â€˜What? I’m not having a party.’ Mrs Ramsay appeared to have forgotten that it was she who had said about having a party. Did she think Stella had made it up?
    Stella was used to facts being tumbled on to their heads. Her mum complained that she never saw Stella’s dad and was getting a divorce, which meant she would never see him ever. Her dad had bought Stella a pink suitcase when he knew she hated pink. Stella dwelt on the ring of footprints.
    A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
    We all fall down.
    She didn’t like girls who cried. She wanted to tell Mrs Ramsay that she never made anything up, that it was important to stick to the facts.
    â€˜Since her royal horsiness is tying the knot today, no one will come to my party, they’ll be watching the wedding in glorious Technicolor!’ She sucked on her cigarette and glanced at Stella. ‘So you’ve run away because you don’t want to go to a party?’
    â€˜I am going to Barons Court because my mum and dad are Filing for Divorce. They have Matrimonial Troubles.’ Stella pronounced the phrases learnt from her parents.
    â€˜Why? Is one of them having an affair?’
    A noise on the river caused them both to turn. A speedboat roared past and headed off towards Hammersmith Bridge. The engine sound died away followed seconds later by the wash in its wake.
    â€˜I – I don’t know what that is,’ Stella confessed at last. ‘Mum told him he would be more use if he kept the bed warm.’ Stella had never comprehended this much-repeated complaint. Why was keeping the bed warm just her dad’s job? It could be hers if she was allowed to fill hot-water bottles.
    Isabel Ramsay frowned. ‘Ah well.’
    â€˜My dad doesn’t want us to go. And I’m not sure he can manage his Fresh Start by himself.’ Stella had never articulated these concerns before.
    Mrs Ramsay didn’t reply.
    The sun had gone behind a thin layer of cloud. The river was grey. Without the sun the scene was drained of colour.
    Stella said, ‘I’ll have to go and find my dog.’
    Mrs Ramsay had her back to her.
    â€˜The thing is, Stella Darnell, running away takes planning. Food, water, change of clothes. And somewhere to run to.’
    Stella nodded, although Mrs Ramsay wasn’t looking at her.
    â€˜If you’re not at home, how will Hector find you?’
    â€˜Bye then.’
    Without waiting for a reply, Stella raced up the river steps. She didn’t stop running until she reached the top of