Read Online Amelia Dee and the Peacock Lamp by Odo Hirsch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Odo Hirsch
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
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severe again, impatient, dismissive.
‘Hm! It is a silly story. A fancy!’ She said the word contemptuously, in her heavy accent. A fenceeee . Amelia winced.
‘Life is not like this. Why did you write such a story?’
‘I just thought . . . I thought you’d like it.’
‘It is a stupid story. Stupid! Do you hear me?’
Amelia stared. It was the first story she had ever written – apart from the ones she was forced to write at school – that she had showed to anyone. And it wasn’t just any story, it was about the lamp – the lamp which had almost killed her, yet had also saved her life, the lamp about which she knew so little, and yet contained so many stories – and of all these stories, it was the one she loved most. For years, she had carried it in her head, thinking about it, developing it, perfecting it. It was the most precious story she had! And she had wasted it on this Princess. Amelia could feel tears coming to her eyes. But she wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of this awful, awful lady.
‘Do you think this is what life is like to be a princess?’ The Princess laughed bitterly. ‘Do you think it is so simple? No, it is hard, harder than any other life.’
‘Why?’ said Amelia. ‘Why is it so complicated? You have everything. You’ve got palaces, and people to look after you, and—’
‘Stupid story! Why do you write about this lamp?’
Amelia shook her head, not sure what to say.
‘Well? This lamp?’ The Princess said it as if Amelia had no right even to mention it.
‘It’s just a lamp,’ murmured Amelia.
‘How do you know about it? With the monkey with the face of a man. With the peacocks on the bottom. The two peacocks. How do you know about the two peacocks? How do you know about this lamp?’
‘I’ve seen it,’ said Amelia.
The Princess stared. Now Amelia saw the Princess’s face as it had been before, when Amelia had been reading. The old woman’s eyes were full of amazement and disbelief.
‘Where have you seen it?’ asked the Princess.
‘It’s . . .’
‘Where?’ demanded the Princess. ‘Where is it?’
‘In my house,’ whispered Amelia. ‘Outside my room.’
The Princess stared at her again. Then her face flickered with a kind of tremor of horror. She turned away. She got up, holding her hand to the side of her face so Amelia couldn’t see her expression, and went quickly to the door.
CHAPTER 10
‘I can’t see the point of it,’ said Amelia to Mr Vishwanath later, when they were sitting under the verandah. ‘Why did you want me to meet her? She didn’t care about anything I said. And then she just got up and walked out!’
Mr Vishwanath didn’t respond. He continued to gaze at the garden, where Amelia’s father was moving the statues of her mother’s thin-white-faces phase down the back.
Or trying to. His improvements to the mover-and-stacker machine still needed some work. The winch was larger, which helped with the bigger statues, but that made the machine top-heavy, and it had developed a tendency to topple over when lifting the sculptures. It had already toppled over half a dozen times. But that didn’t disturb Amelia’s father, who knew that any improvement takes a number of attempts to get right. In fact, he would have been more disturbed had the machine not toppled over. Or at least that’s what he claimed, calling out to them cheerfully as the machine toppled over on its side for the seventh time.
Mr Vishwanath smiled encouragingly at him.
Amelia didn’t how much Mr Vishwanath had heard when she met the Princess. He had been there all the time, sitting on the other side of the room in one of his yoga positions. He was still sitting there in his yoga position when the Princess rushed out, and even after that he continued to sit for another couple of minutes. He certainly would have heard if he had been listening, but it was possible that he wasn’t listening. Anyone else would have, but not Mr Vishwanath. He had once
‘Hm! It is a silly story. A fancy!’ She said the word contemptuously, in her heavy accent. A fenceeee . Amelia winced.
‘Life is not like this. Why did you write such a story?’
‘I just thought . . . I thought you’d like it.’
‘It is a stupid story. Stupid! Do you hear me?’
Amelia stared. It was the first story she had ever written – apart from the ones she was forced to write at school – that she had showed to anyone. And it wasn’t just any story, it was about the lamp – the lamp which had almost killed her, yet had also saved her life, the lamp about which she knew so little, and yet contained so many stories – and of all these stories, it was the one she loved most. For years, she had carried it in her head, thinking about it, developing it, perfecting it. It was the most precious story she had! And she had wasted it on this Princess. Amelia could feel tears coming to her eyes. But she wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of this awful, awful lady.
‘Do you think this is what life is like to be a princess?’ The Princess laughed bitterly. ‘Do you think it is so simple? No, it is hard, harder than any other life.’
‘Why?’ said Amelia. ‘Why is it so complicated? You have everything. You’ve got palaces, and people to look after you, and—’
‘Stupid story! Why do you write about this lamp?’
Amelia shook her head, not sure what to say.
‘Well? This lamp?’ The Princess said it as if Amelia had no right even to mention it.
‘It’s just a lamp,’ murmured Amelia.
‘How do you know about it? With the monkey with the face of a man. With the peacocks on the bottom. The two peacocks. How do you know about the two peacocks? How do you know about this lamp?’
‘I’ve seen it,’ said Amelia.
The Princess stared. Now Amelia saw the Princess’s face as it had been before, when Amelia had been reading. The old woman’s eyes were full of amazement and disbelief.
‘Where have you seen it?’ asked the Princess.
‘It’s . . .’
‘Where?’ demanded the Princess. ‘Where is it?’
‘In my house,’ whispered Amelia. ‘Outside my room.’
The Princess stared at her again. Then her face flickered with a kind of tremor of horror. She turned away. She got up, holding her hand to the side of her face so Amelia couldn’t see her expression, and went quickly to the door.
CHAPTER 10
‘I can’t see the point of it,’ said Amelia to Mr Vishwanath later, when they were sitting under the verandah. ‘Why did you want me to meet her? She didn’t care about anything I said. And then she just got up and walked out!’
Mr Vishwanath didn’t respond. He continued to gaze at the garden, where Amelia’s father was moving the statues of her mother’s thin-white-faces phase down the back.
Or trying to. His improvements to the mover-and-stacker machine still needed some work. The winch was larger, which helped with the bigger statues, but that made the machine top-heavy, and it had developed a tendency to topple over when lifting the sculptures. It had already toppled over half a dozen times. But that didn’t disturb Amelia’s father, who knew that any improvement takes a number of attempts to get right. In fact, he would have been more disturbed had the machine not toppled over. Or at least that’s what he claimed, calling out to them cheerfully as the machine toppled over on its side for the seventh time.
Mr Vishwanath smiled encouragingly at him.
Amelia didn’t how much Mr Vishwanath had heard when she met the Princess. He had been there all the time, sitting on the other side of the room in one of his yoga positions. He was still sitting there in his yoga position when the Princess rushed out, and even after that he continued to sit for another couple of minutes. He certainly would have heard if he had been listening, but it was possible that he wasn’t listening. Anyone else would have, but not Mr Vishwanath. He had once
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