The Runaways Read Online Free PDF Page A

of a cat and six kittens was on the draining board, the dishes and plates and two pairs of boots were stacked on the table, the cuckoo clock was in the sink, the saucepans were on the floor, and the mantelpiece, windowsills and dresser were crowded with plants in pots, bast and string and seed boxes. Some women, but no men or children, might have considered this a kitchen, but they would have been wrong. It was not dirty because it smelt right. It smelt of onions, herbs, geraniums and good earth, but not dirt. Cobwebs were spun between the rafters, but the washing-up had been done before the cat and the cuckoo clock had been put on the draining board and into the sink, and the copper saucepans on the floor were so bright that you could see your face inthem. Nan, Robert and Timothy sighed with delight and wanted to look at the kittens, but the elderly gentleman would not let them linger. Handing his candle to Robert, he picked up the steaming kettle and led them all out again. ‘I’ll not have Andromache disturbed,’ he said. ‘Her accouchement took place only last Wednesday.’
    He led them up a staircase, down a passage and into a room full of moonlight so bright that its reflection in the polished oak of the old wavy floor was almost dazzling. There was a four-poster bed, with maroon curtains and a flight of steps leading up to it, a bow-fronted chest of drawers and a vast washstand with two sets of willow-patterned jugs and basins.
    ‘My spare room,’ said the elderly gentleman. ‘It has never been slept in, for if there is one thing I dislike more than paying visits, it is receiving them. As to the condition of the bedding, if any, I am unable to inform you.’ He set down the steaming kettle on the washstand and lifted the patchwork quilt which lay on the bed. Under it was a pile of feather pillows and blankets but no sheets. ‘Are they damp?’ he asked a little anxiously. ‘I should not like the child to take cold.’
    He did not so much as glance at Betsy as he spoke, but yet Nan knew he liked Betsy, and liked her. What he felt about the boys she was not so sure.
    ‘Betsy never takes cold,’ she reassured him. ‘Timothy does, but I’ll make him keep his combinations on.’
    ‘Combinations of what?’ asked the elderly gentleman.
    ‘Just combinations,’ said Nan. ‘What we wear next to our skins.’
    ‘Ah,’ said the elderly gentleman. ‘Combinations. I mustbehold them at some future and more suitable occasion, for the extension of knowledge has always been of prime importance to me. Good night.’
    Laying Betsy down on the bed, he took his candle from Robert and walked out of the room without a backward glance. Yet they looked at each other with dancing eyes, for if he had really intended to turn them adrift tomorrow, he would not have expressed a wish to see their combinations.
    ‘We’ll do everything he tells us,’ said Robert. ‘We’ll wash. Come on.’
    Now Robert hated washing, and he hated doing what he was told, so it was all the more extraordinary that it was he who poured hot water into one of the big basins, rummaged out a bath towel from under the bedding, a piece of hard yellow soap from a cupboard under the washstand, and fell upon Timothy. There was no flannel, but he soaped Timothy’s face and neck good and hard with the soap in direct contact with the skin, ducked his head in the basin and then rubbed him dry. Timothy yelled once, kicked twice and then submitted. Nan woke up Betsy, washed her face, took off her smock and petticoat and tucked her back into bed again. Then she washed her own face and hands, took off her smock and helped the boys with their sailor suits. Followed by Absolom, they climbed up the little flight of steps and settled themselves joyously in the big bed. With the girls at the top, the boys at the bottom and Absolom in the middle there was plenty of room for all of them. It was cosy and soft with all the feather pillows and a feather bed, and about eight