The Runaway Summer Read Online Free PDF Page B

dinner? I mean, is your Aunt dreadfully poor?’
    ‘Of course she’s not poor,’ Mary said, without thinking.She saw the surprise on his face and added, hastily, ‘And she doesn’t starve me, actually. It’s just that she—she doesn’t like me, so she gives me scraps and left-overs, and they’re not always nice.’
    ‘Why doesn’t she like you?’
    Inwardly, Mary sighed a little. She enjoyed making up stories about herself, but she liked to have time to get them properly worked out before she told them to other people. And Simon hadn’t given her time, she thought indignantly. He was as bad as his sisters, poking and prying …
    She tossed her head. ‘Curiosity killed the cat!’
    Simon went red—he blushed very easily, just like a silly girl, Mary thought—but he spoke quite calmly. ‘Oh, all right. I’m sure I don’t want to know.’
    He started up the beach. Mary watched him—and felt lonely. He was a horrid, inquisitive boy, but he was the first person of her own age she had spoken to for over a month. Neither Grandfather nor Aunt Alice knew any children. Grandfather’s friends were all old, and Aunt Alice was too shy to have any. She talked to her neighbours but only when she had to: most of the time she pretended not to see them, when she passed them in the street.
    Mary struggled with herself. Then she called after Simon. ‘I’m sorry.’
    He stopped and looked back. His face was blank.
    She said, ‘I didn’t mean to be foul. It’s just that …’ Just what? Her mind seemed empty; then words came into it and she used them. ‘Just that I don’t really want to talk about it.’
    ‘All right.’ He sounded off-hand, as if he were still rather hurt, but he did smile at her. ‘It’s a bit silly. I don’t even know your name.’
    ‘Mary.’
    ‘Well. I’m Simon Trumpet.’ He paused. ‘Look—I mean—well—if you …’ His voice tailed away; he bent over the shopping basket and heaved it up, leaning sideways to take its weight, and then said, as if he had picked up his courage with it, ‘I mean, if you get hungry again, you could come to tea, or something. We live at Harbour View, just beyond the pier.’
    He didn’t wait for an answer. He ran up the steps and Poll and Annabel closed on him, one taking his free hand, the other holding the basket.
    They were out of Mary’s sight almost at once, but she waited five minutes by her watch before burying the remains of the sardine sandwich in the shingle. Then she began to work things out in her mind. She might not see Simon again, but if she did, she intended to have a good story ready.

THREE
The Boy from the Sea
    ‘M Y AUNT DOESN’T like me. She’s only looking after me because of the money. My father was a rich man, you see, almost a millionaire …’
    Mary was sitting on the beach and talking to herself; no sound, just her lips moving. Now she stopped and frowned. Her father was a business man; he made quite a lot of money, but Mary wasn’t sure how. All she really knew was that he travelled a lot and this was one of the things her mother was always complaining about. Mary stared at the sea which was slowly creeping in now, across the shiny mud, and wondered what her father could have been that would sound convincingly rich …
    ‘He was a Bank Manager,’ she said, at last. ‘And when he died, he left all his money to me, though I don’t get it until I’m twenty one. If I die before that, the money goes to my Aunt, so she hopes I will die, of course. She doesn’t dare starve me, and she’s not really cruel—if she beat me, the bruises would show and the neighbours might notice! But it’s pretty scarey sometimes, especially if I get ill, because I know what she’s thinking. I had a cold last week and she sent me to bed and took my temperature. She said it was normal but I knew it wasn’t because she looked so pleased! And all that day and the next, she made me stay in bed and she kept coming in, and whenever I woke up,