The Unorthodox Arrival of Pumpkin Allan Read Online Free PDF Page B

the house next door. We’ll have no trouble selling this delightful property, in fact I know of several customers straight off the top of my head who would simply adore it. I must say, I would quite like it my…”
    “Get out!” Annie screamed. “Get out of here right now!”
    Beryl looked only slightly affronted. “Annie it’s not her fault!” Dave called, as Annie stomped out of the door, tears welling up in her eyes. With the combination of rushing and tear-blurred vision, Annie missed her footing on the staircase and fell down the last three steps. She hauled herself up by the stair rail and, ignoring the fact that her ankle was really hurting, hobbled to the back door of the house, trying desperately to retain any remaining dignity. She took off her heeled work shoes, threw them into the utility room in disgust and limped over to the table, on which she leaned, taking some deep breaths. Then, feeling very slightly calmer, she made her way to the loo. As she sat there, she could hear Dave saying goodbye to Beryl, making apologies for his wife and saying he would be in touch soon regarding when the house was to be put on the market.
    Well this was too much for Annie, she yanked up her undies, sadly with the back of her skirt stuck in the top of her tights, slammed the toilet door and stormed into the kitchen, just as Dave walked in through the back door. At which point Annie lost it, properly, for the first time in her life.
    “You bastard how could you? How the hell could you think of trying to sell our beautiful house without asking me, without even talking to me about it?” She felt the anger tightening across her chest, down her arms and into her fingers. Almost before she knew what was happening, she started picking up objects near to her and hurling them at Dave’s head. With each throw she yelled an obscenity starting with, “You bastard!” and deteriorating from there.
    The first thing she threw was a floppy chicken dog toy, which Stephen must have left on the kitchen worktop. As Annie took aim, Reaver, one of their two spaniels, prepared herself for the chase. As the toy flew she skidded across the kitchen floor tiles in hot pursuit. Dave, with the lightening reactions of a karate brown belt, was able to catch the chicken, before it hit the welsh dresser, and before Reaver could make a jump for it. He glanced up at Annie with a “you’ll have to do better than that” look in his eye. She yelled, she swore, she threw. First an empty cup, which smashed against the wall, just missing the clock, this time the master of self-defence was not quick enough to catch it as it whizzed past his ear. Then a medium sized Le Creuset casserole lid, which she wielded like a discus thrower. Dave crouched down with his arms over his head. The lid hit the wall and the edge of the dresser simultaneously, very hard, leaving considerable dents and causing three plates and Dave’s recently used coffee cup to topple off the dresser and smash. She then grabbed the casserole dish itself, containing the remains of a chicken Madras. Dave had been about to dispose of the slightly furry curry when Beryl had arrived; it had spent at least a week in the fridge. Having picked it up, Annie realised it was so heavy she would need clever tactics if she was not to lose face. She did a fast turn around where she stood, launching the casserole towards Dave, who had just stood up. The dish flew in slow motion. He decided as a damage limitation strategy, to try and catch it. But with Annie tiring, the weight of the dish and Dave’s anxiety about his shoeless feet, the casserole fell well short of his reach and crashed, bottom down to the floor. Cold, mouldering curry, splattering over the vicinity, and Dave.
    There was a slam of the front door and Stephen walked in and greeted his mum matter-of-factly with a, “Hi Mum, your skirt’s tucked in your knickers.” He walked past Annie and said to Dave, “Dad, why’ve you got curry