Time of Hope Read Online Free PDF Page A

enough to stand,’ she said. She stared at me with an expression that made me uncomfortable.
    ‘Have they told you the news?’ she asked.
    I prevaricated. She cross-questioned me. I said, feeling wretched, that I knew there was trouble with my father’s business.
    ‘I don’t believe you know. No wonder everything goes wrong in this house,’ said Aunt Milly. ‘I suppose I oughtn’t to tell you, but it’s better for you to hear it straight out.’
    I wanted to beg her not to tell me; I looked up at her with fear and hatred.
    Aunt Milly said firmly: ‘Your father has gone bankrupt.’
    I was silent. Aunt Milly stood, large, formidable, noisy, in the middle of the garden. In the sunlight her hair took on a sandy sheen. A bee buzzed among the flowers.
    ‘Yes, Aunt Milly,’ I said, ‘I’ve heard about his – petition.’
    Inexorably Aunt Milly went on: ‘It means that he isn’t able to pay his debts. He owes six hundred pounds – and I suppose I oughtn’t to tell you, but he won’t be able to pay more than two hundred.’
    Those sounded great sums.
    ‘When you grow up,’ said Aunt Milly, ‘you ought to feel obliged to pay every penny he owes. You ought to make a resolution now. You oughtn’t to rest until you’ve got him discharged and your family can be honest and above board again. Your father will never be able to do it. He’ll have his work cut out to earn your bread and butter.’
    As a rule at that age I should have promised anything that was expected of me. But then I did not speak.
    ‘There won’t be any money to send you to the secondary school,’ said Aunt Milly. ‘Your father wouldn’t be able to manage the fees. But I’ve told your mother that we can see after that.’
    I scarcely realized that Aunt Milly was being kind. I had no idea that she was being imaginative in thinking three years ahead. I hated her and I was hurt. Somewhere deep within the pain there was anger growing inside me. Yet, obeying my mother’s regard for style, I produced a word or two of thanks.
    ‘Mind you,’ said Aunt Milly, ‘you mustn’t expect to run away with things at the secondary school. After all, it doesn’t take much to be top of that old-fashioned place your mother sends you to. No wonder you seem bright among that lot. But you’ll find it a different kettle of fish at a big school. I shouldn’t wonder if you’re no better than the average. Still, you’ll have to do as well as you can.’
    ‘I shall do well, Aunt Milly,’ I said, bursting out from wretchedness. I said it politely, boastingly, confidently and also with fury and extreme rudeness.
    Just then my mother came down to join us. ‘So you’ve got back, Lena,’ said Aunt Milly.
    ‘Yes, I’ve got back,’ said my mother, in a brittle tone. She was pale and exhausted, and for once seemed spiritless. She asked Aunt Milly if she would like a cup of tea in the open air.
    Aunt Milly said that she had been telling me that she would help with my education.
    ‘It’s very good of you, I’m sure, Milly,’ said my mother, without a flicker of her usual pride. ‘I shouldn’t like Lewis not to have his chance.’
    ‘Aunt Milly doesn’t think I shall do well at the secondary school,’ I broke in. ‘I’ve told her that I shall.’
    My mother gave a faint grin, wan but amused. She must have been able to imagine the conversation; and, that afternoon of all afternoons, it heartened her to hear me brag.
    Aunt Milly did not exhort my mother, and did not find it necessary to tell her any home truths. Aunt Milly, in fact, made a galumphing attempt to distract my mother’s mind by saying that the news looked bad but that she did not believe for a single instant in the possibility of war.
    ‘After all,’ she said, ‘it’s the twentieth century.’
    My mother sipped her tea. She was too tired to be drawn. Often they quarrelled on these subjects, as on all others: Aunt Milly was an enthusiastic liberal, my mother a patriotic, jingoish,