Read Online Abdication: A Novel by Juliet Nicolson - Free Book Online
Authors: Juliet Nicolson
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a pair of loafers, the latest casual shoes all the rage amongst fashionable men, who had adopted the American variation on the Norwegian moccasin with gusto.
Even as she made her way down the gangplank at the crowded Liverpool docks, with Wiggle hidden underneath her coat, Evangeline was still trying to shake off the persistent assistant captain’s attentions. She was relieved to spot her name written in uneven script on the largepiece of card held up high by a bulldog of a man in uniform. His cap was sitting slightly askew on his head as he waited for her beside a glistening blue Rolls-Royce on the quayside.
Philip’s chauffeur, Cropper, was to bring her straight to London and Evangeline’s luggage had been strapped to the back of the car by the taciturn driver, who was evidently reluctant to open his mouth even in cursory greeting. Not until she had settled herself and Wiggle on the leather seat beneath a thick, plaid rug did Evangeline detect a whiff of whisky in the air.
Deciding that the least confrontational and therefore most pleasurable way to spend the long journey was to remain silent, she gazed out of the window, relieved when they left the grim-looking streets of Liverpool behind them. As the car gathered speed along the monotonously grey roads of the North of England, Evangeline fell asleep. She only came to during brief stops at the side of the road when Cropper muttered that he needed to check that the luggage was still securely tied to the back of the car, but she soon dozed off again until they eventually arrived in London.
C HAPTER F IVE
W hen May and Sam squeezed their way into the tiny front room in Bethnal Green they found three people waiting for them. A tall girl with wide-open grey eyes, rose from her chair beside the coal fire to greet the new arrivals. An older, balding man, his shirt buttons perilously close to detaching themselves from the straining fabric of his shirt, tucked his arm into the crook of Sarah’s elbow and smiled at May and Sam. His facial resemblance to Sarah was unmistakable.
The third member of the greeting party, a woman wearing a floral apron tied tightly over her cardigan, faced the visitors from her position in front of the fire. She had hitched up the back of her skirt almost to her waist and was warming herself on the coals. Releasing her skirt she bustled over to May and peered at her over the top of her glasses. May could smell something faintly farinaceous.
“Well now! Here you are. Nat’s cousins! And let me say we are very happy to have you here in Oak Street, aren’t we, Sarah? Aren’t we, Simon? Simon, are you paying attention to me?”
“This is Mrs. Rachel Greenfeld, my mother-in-law; Simon, my father-in-law; and my wife, Sarah,” Nat began.
“Was it rough on the boat?” Nat’s mother-in-law interrupted, her grey bun pinned in a graceful coil at the back of her head. “And was the coach on time? I hope your mother packed you both off with a lotof warm clothes and a nice flask for a hot drink. I expect you could all do with a nice cup of tea. Simon, put the kettle on at once, Simon. Did you hear me, Simon? These children are half-dead with thirst, I shouldn’t wonder. Now then, did your mother warn you that it’s very cold here in England? Did you tell your aunt to warn them, Nat?”
Rachel tapped her neatly laced shoe on the floor as she spoke, as if keeping time with the rhythm of her own speech. Her questions came like bubbles popping from a child’s blowpipe, with one bursting into the air only to be replaced at once by another.
“Well, tell me, May, what was the food like on the ship, Sam? Not enough of it by the look of you both! Well you won’t have to worry about quantity in this house!”
Sarah sat quietly, occasionally rolling her eyes at her father and husband as she watched two strangers encountering her mother’s inquisitive but affectionate volubility for the first time.
“You look peaky, Sam. Simon, doesn’t Sam
Even as she made her way down the gangplank at the crowded Liverpool docks, with Wiggle hidden underneath her coat, Evangeline was still trying to shake off the persistent assistant captain’s attentions. She was relieved to spot her name written in uneven script on the largepiece of card held up high by a bulldog of a man in uniform. His cap was sitting slightly askew on his head as he waited for her beside a glistening blue Rolls-Royce on the quayside.
Philip’s chauffeur, Cropper, was to bring her straight to London and Evangeline’s luggage had been strapped to the back of the car by the taciturn driver, who was evidently reluctant to open his mouth even in cursory greeting. Not until she had settled herself and Wiggle on the leather seat beneath a thick, plaid rug did Evangeline detect a whiff of whisky in the air.
Deciding that the least confrontational and therefore most pleasurable way to spend the long journey was to remain silent, she gazed out of the window, relieved when they left the grim-looking streets of Liverpool behind them. As the car gathered speed along the monotonously grey roads of the North of England, Evangeline fell asleep. She only came to during brief stops at the side of the road when Cropper muttered that he needed to check that the luggage was still securely tied to the back of the car, but she soon dozed off again until they eventually arrived in London.
C HAPTER F IVE
W hen May and Sam squeezed their way into the tiny front room in Bethnal Green they found three people waiting for them. A tall girl with wide-open grey eyes, rose from her chair beside the coal fire to greet the new arrivals. An older, balding man, his shirt buttons perilously close to detaching themselves from the straining fabric of his shirt, tucked his arm into the crook of Sarah’s elbow and smiled at May and Sam. His facial resemblance to Sarah was unmistakable.
The third member of the greeting party, a woman wearing a floral apron tied tightly over her cardigan, faced the visitors from her position in front of the fire. She had hitched up the back of her skirt almost to her waist and was warming herself on the coals. Releasing her skirt she bustled over to May and peered at her over the top of her glasses. May could smell something faintly farinaceous.
“Well now! Here you are. Nat’s cousins! And let me say we are very happy to have you here in Oak Street, aren’t we, Sarah? Aren’t we, Simon? Simon, are you paying attention to me?”
“This is Mrs. Rachel Greenfeld, my mother-in-law; Simon, my father-in-law; and my wife, Sarah,” Nat began.
“Was it rough on the boat?” Nat’s mother-in-law interrupted, her grey bun pinned in a graceful coil at the back of her head. “And was the coach on time? I hope your mother packed you both off with a lotof warm clothes and a nice flask for a hot drink. I expect you could all do with a nice cup of tea. Simon, put the kettle on at once, Simon. Did you hear me, Simon? These children are half-dead with thirst, I shouldn’t wonder. Now then, did your mother warn you that it’s very cold here in England? Did you tell your aunt to warn them, Nat?”
Rachel tapped her neatly laced shoe on the floor as she spoke, as if keeping time with the rhythm of her own speech. Her questions came like bubbles popping from a child’s blowpipe, with one bursting into the air only to be replaced at once by another.
“Well, tell me, May, what was the food like on the ship, Sam? Not enough of it by the look of you both! Well you won’t have to worry about quantity in this house!”
Sarah sat quietly, occasionally rolling her eyes at her father and husband as she watched two strangers encountering her mother’s inquisitive but affectionate volubility for the first time.
“You look peaky, Sam. Simon, doesn’t Sam
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