The Sweetest Dream Read Online Free PDF

he was well used
to. He stood, receiving rays of criticism, beams of love, and smiled
at them. He was a tall man, Comrade Johnny, with already greying
hair cut like a Roman’s, at your service always , and he wore tight
black jeans, a black leather Mao jacket especially made for him
by an admiring comrade in the rag trade. Severity was his preferred
style, smiling or not, for a smile could never be more than a
temporary concession, but he was smiling boldly now.
    â€˜Do you mean to say,’ said Andrew, ‘that Tilly’s been out
there in the car waiting, all this time?’
    â€˜Good God,’ said Colin. ‘Typical.’
    â€˜I’ll go and bring her in,’ said Johnny, and marched out,
brushing past his ex-wife and Colin and Andrew, not looking at
them.
    No one moved. Frances thought if her sons had not been so
close, enveloping her with their support, she would have fallen.
All the faces around the table were turned towards them: that this
was a very bad moment, they had at last understood.
    They heard the front door open–Johnny of course had a
key to his mother’s house–and then in the doorway to this room,
the kitchen, stood a little frightened figure, in a big duffel-coat,
trembling with cold, trying to smile, but instead out of her
burst a great wail, as she looked at Frances, who she had been
told was kind and would look after her, ‘until we get things
straightened out’. She was a little bird blown by a storm, and
Frances was across the room to her, and had her arms round her,
saying, ‘It’s all right, shhh, it’s all right.’ Then she remembered
this was not a child, but a girl of fourteen or so, and her impulse,
to sit down and hold this waif on her lap was out of order.
Meanwhile Johnny, just behind the girl, was saying, ‘I think bed
is indicated,’ and then, generally around the room, ‘I’ll be off.’
But did not go.
    The girl was looking in appeal at Andrew, whom after all she
did know, among all these strangers.
    â€˜Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it.’ He put his arm round Tilly,
and turned to go out of the room.
    â€˜I’ll put her down in the basement,’ he said. ‘It’s nice and
warm down there.’
    â€˜Oh, no, no, no, please,’ cried the girl. ‘Don’t, I cannot be
alone, I can’t, don’t make me.’
    â€˜Of course not, if you don’t want to,’ said Andrew. Then, to
his mother, ‘I’ll put a bed in with me for tonight.’ And he led
her out. They all sat quiet, listening to how he coaxed her up the
stairs.
    Johnny was face to face with Frances, who said to him, low,
hoping it would not be heard by the others, ‘Go away, Johnny.
Just get out.’
    He tried an appealing smile around, caught Rose’s eyes, who
did smile back, but she was doubtful, withstood passionate
reproach from Sophie, nodded sternly at Geoffrey, whom he had
known for years. And left. The front door shut. The car door
slammed.
    Now Colin was hovering behind Frances, touching her arm,
her shoulder, not knowing what to do.
    â€˜Come on,’ he said, ‘come on upstairs.’ They went out
together. Frances began swearing as she climbed the stairs, first
softly, so as not to be heard by the young, then loudly, ‘Fuck
him, fuck him, fuck, the shit, the absolute shit .’ In her sitting-room
she sat crying, while Colin, at a loss, at last thought of getting her
tissues and then a glass of water.
    Meanwhile Julia had been told by Andrew what was going
on. She came down, opened Frances’s door without knocking,
and marched in. ‘Please explain it to me,’ she said. ‘I don’t
understand. Why do you let him behave like this?’
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    Julia von Arne was born in a particularly charming part of
Germany, near Stuttgart, a region of hills, streams and vineyards. She
was the only girl, the third child in a