Read Online A Garden of Trees by Nicholas Mosley - Free Book Online

afraid I don’t know your name,” Peter said, introducing me. I told him.
    â€œOh yes,” Freddie said. “Weren’t you in the Regiment?”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œI thought I remembered you.”
    â€œI’m afraid I left it,” I said.
    â€œOh yes,” he said. He looked away. Peter was introducing the others to Marius. Marius stood up and shook hands. The prancing man was poised beside him with his head on one side, and the girl was approaching like a one-man band. Peter was doing some joke about introducing Marius as a cardinal.
    â€œYou have been in England long?” the prancing man said. He spoke meticulously, as if to a foreigner.
    â€œYes,” Marius said.
    â€œYou have come over to . . . ?”
    â€œTo . . . ?”
    â€œI thought . . . ”
    â€œNo,” Marius said.
    â€œOh.” The girl was staring at Marius open-mouthed. Above her head two feathers swayed like wireless-masts, and her earrings clashed faintly like cymbals. Peter began to sing, “Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay.”
    Freddie advanced impatiently upon Annabelle. “Why don’t you come out with us?” he said. “We were going to have some dinner. Why don’t you?”
    â€œI can’t.” Annabelle said.
    He caught hold of her arm in an awkward, lurching way, and she stood turned away from him while he held her. “Why not?” he said. “Come along. Don’t let’s have any nonsense.” He pulled her arm and Annabelle swayed, letting her arm go, but her feet did not move. He looked stiff and ugly beside her.
    â€œShe doesn’t want to.” Peter called out. “She hates your guts, Freddie, she hates your guts.”
    Freddie laughed. He gave another pull at Annabelle’s arm and she overbalanced, crossing her feet to steady herself. I could not see her face. The prancing man was standing in front of Marius and Marius was looking over his shiny oiled head towards Peter. “I don’t know about that,” Freddie said in his thick, throttled voice, “but she’s going to have dinner with us, aren’t you?” He squeezed her arm and I could see how he wanted to hurt her.
    â€œYou’re a sadist, Freddie,” Peter called. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a sadist?”
    â€œOh are you?” the prancing man said brightly.
    The smart girl swung round and caught him on the hip with her drum. The she went writhing up to Freddie. “Why should she come?” she said. “Why should the poor thing come if she doesn’t want to?” She stood with her soft powdered face stretched loudly up towards Freddie’s. Freddie did not look at her. Annabelle swayed on one leg with her head down, and Freddie’s starched white cuff showed up against her skin like a bandage.
    â€œWhy don’t you go to a girl’s school?” Peter called. “Why don’t you pinch Nancy, she’s longing for it.” Nancy became convulsed with giggles, clutching her drum to her middle.
    â€œCome along,” Freddie said, furiously.
    â€œIf you pinch Nancy,” Peter said, “she’ll make a noise like a hunting-horn.”
    Freddie took a step towards Annabelle so that she straightened out on her feet. “Well what are you going to do to-night?” he said. “What else are you doing?”
    â€œI’m having dinner,” Annabelle said. She stood miserably.
    â€œOh,” Freddie said. He let go of her. She stood where she was. Freddie walked over to Peter. “Let’s have your drinks then,” he said. “Where are they?”
    â€œNo drinks,” Peter said. “Only lettuces.”
    â€œOn the wagon?” Freddie sneered.
    â€œNo, they’ve arrived,” Peter said. He began to laugh uncontrollably.
    Nancy was plucking at the prancing man’s sleeve. “We’d better go,” she said. “Don’t let’s stay if Annabelle