Read Online Angel of Brooklyn by Janette Jenkins - Free Book Online
Authors: Janette Jenkins
Ads: Link
menace, but which was, in fact, a very crooked eye.
‘Well, thanks very much for your time,’ said the man, quickly pushing back his chair and groping for his hat. ‘Yes, sir, time’s a precious thing and I appreciate it. I really, really do.’
Godfrey Beauty Products of Chicago didn’t get Beatrice Lyle. After seeing three other little girls from their scout’s list (one had a very pushy mother, one on closer inspection had bags under her eyes, and the other was dying of diphtheria), they decided to use a dog. For the next fifteen years, the face of Purest Honeysuckle Soap was a sloppy doe-eyed golden retriever called Rex.
2. Birthday
Beatrice Lyle was born on 19 April 1891 at 11.25 a.m. Every year her father would give her a card illustrated by the natural-history artist George Edwards. It would usually contain a small amount of money. This card would be handed to her with a smile that often looked more like an accusation than anything well meant. Beatrice kept the cards inside a shoebox. Her favourite was the Blue Flycatcher from Suriname. Her least favourite was the Brazilian Jacupema of Marggrave. It reminded her of a very strict aunt. She usually spent the money on notebooks and candy, which she shared with Elijah. She never had a party, or a birthday cake.
3. Be Careful
‘You talk in your sleep.’
A lightning storm had sent her scurrying into her brother’s room, which was in fact more frightening than her own, with its stark white walls, and its picture of Christ and the Devil, which lit up with every flash. But at least she wasn’t alone.
‘I do not.’
‘You do.’
‘So what is it that I say?’ ‘Mumblings,’ he told her. ‘A whole series of mumblings.
I can’t. It’s somewhere. But I really don’t like it
.’
‘Am I loud?’ she asked, pulling on her lips.
‘Not loud, but it’s annoying all the same. Last night I covered my head with my pillow, and when that didn’t work, I stuffed handkerchiefs into my ears, but they kept on falling out, so I just prayed to the Lord for guidance.’
‘And what did He say?’
‘He told me to sleep in another room, but I couldn’t be bothered to move.’
4. Gold Buttons
On her tenth birthday, just after her father had given her the card (of Kin to the Wheat) and the very thin smile, Beatrice Lyle decided that she’d had enough of the birds and the stares, and she wanted to live in a house like her best friend Bethan Carter, who lived right next to the main road, had four noisy brothers, a dog, a Dutch rabbit, and a mother who had a sweet tooth, waddled when she walked and, best of all, always looked happy. Even when she was cross, she was very nearly smiling. Scolding, her mouth would be set tight, but her eyes would be saying something else.
I’m your mama, I have to shout, I’m shouting because I love you all to bits, and I want you to grow into good decent citizens, so forgive me
.
Their father was a quiet man, who chuckled at the funnies in the paper. He ran a small grocery store, and he’d come home exhausted, smelling of bacon, his pockets full of stale but edible candy.
There was nothing like this for Beatrice. What did she have at home? Joanna was busy planning her future with Cormac, her father slept in the outhouse most nights, and Elijah had taken to wearing dog collars made out of cardboard cut from a cracker box.
Is it any wonder that I want to get away?
she wrote in her small, five-cent notebook.
Is there anything less normal, in Normal, than these Lyles?
Inside the birthday card was a more than generous dollar bill. (Her father had run out of small change, and was in the middle of a delicate piece of neck wiring.) That afternoon, while Joanna was swooning over Cormac and his runner beans, Beatrice packed a small bag and stepped out of the gate and onto the sidewalk, heading for the sunshine.
She walked for (what felt like) at least half an hour. She smiled at passers-by, her head held high, as if she knew exactly
‘Well, thanks very much for your time,’ said the man, quickly pushing back his chair and groping for his hat. ‘Yes, sir, time’s a precious thing and I appreciate it. I really, really do.’
Godfrey Beauty Products of Chicago didn’t get Beatrice Lyle. After seeing three other little girls from their scout’s list (one had a very pushy mother, one on closer inspection had bags under her eyes, and the other was dying of diphtheria), they decided to use a dog. For the next fifteen years, the face of Purest Honeysuckle Soap was a sloppy doe-eyed golden retriever called Rex.
2. Birthday
Beatrice Lyle was born on 19 April 1891 at 11.25 a.m. Every year her father would give her a card illustrated by the natural-history artist George Edwards. It would usually contain a small amount of money. This card would be handed to her with a smile that often looked more like an accusation than anything well meant. Beatrice kept the cards inside a shoebox. Her favourite was the Blue Flycatcher from Suriname. Her least favourite was the Brazilian Jacupema of Marggrave. It reminded her of a very strict aunt. She usually spent the money on notebooks and candy, which she shared with Elijah. She never had a party, or a birthday cake.
3. Be Careful
‘You talk in your sleep.’
A lightning storm had sent her scurrying into her brother’s room, which was in fact more frightening than her own, with its stark white walls, and its picture of Christ and the Devil, which lit up with every flash. But at least she wasn’t alone.
‘I do not.’
‘You do.’
‘So what is it that I say?’ ‘Mumblings,’ he told her. ‘A whole series of mumblings.
I can’t. It’s somewhere. But I really don’t like it
.’
‘Am I loud?’ she asked, pulling on her lips.
‘Not loud, but it’s annoying all the same. Last night I covered my head with my pillow, and when that didn’t work, I stuffed handkerchiefs into my ears, but they kept on falling out, so I just prayed to the Lord for guidance.’
‘And what did He say?’
‘He told me to sleep in another room, but I couldn’t be bothered to move.’
4. Gold Buttons
On her tenth birthday, just after her father had given her the card (of Kin to the Wheat) and the very thin smile, Beatrice Lyle decided that she’d had enough of the birds and the stares, and she wanted to live in a house like her best friend Bethan Carter, who lived right next to the main road, had four noisy brothers, a dog, a Dutch rabbit, and a mother who had a sweet tooth, waddled when she walked and, best of all, always looked happy. Even when she was cross, she was very nearly smiling. Scolding, her mouth would be set tight, but her eyes would be saying something else.
I’m your mama, I have to shout, I’m shouting because I love you all to bits, and I want you to grow into good decent citizens, so forgive me
.
Their father was a quiet man, who chuckled at the funnies in the paper. He ran a small grocery store, and he’d come home exhausted, smelling of bacon, his pockets full of stale but edible candy.
There was nothing like this for Beatrice. What did she have at home? Joanna was busy planning her future with Cormac, her father slept in the outhouse most nights, and Elijah had taken to wearing dog collars made out of cardboard cut from a cracker box.
Is it any wonder that I want to get away?
she wrote in her small, five-cent notebook.
Is there anything less normal, in Normal, than these Lyles?
Inside the birthday card was a more than generous dollar bill. (Her father had run out of small change, and was in the middle of a delicate piece of neck wiring.) That afternoon, while Joanna was swooning over Cormac and his runner beans, Beatrice packed a small bag and stepped out of the gate and onto the sidewalk, heading for the sunshine.
She walked for (what felt like) at least half an hour. She smiled at passers-by, her head held high, as if she knew exactly
Similar Books
