Read Online Charlotte Stone and the Children of the Nymet by Tasha O'Neill - Free Book Online Page B

She picked up Quintillian who now had a look of indignation on his face. ‘I know someone else who wants food!’
    â€˜He looks like he always wants food,’ Charlotte laughed.
    â€˜Too true,’ Clarissa nodded sagely and addressed the cat in sombre tones. ‘Time to put you on a diet, old moggy.’ Quintillian snorted and wriggled out of her grip. Landing clumsily on his feet, he straightened his fluffy coat for a moment before shooting off into the garden. If his owner wasn’t going to feed him, he’d just need to look after himself, and a juicy mouse would make a tasty hors d’oeuvre.
    Clarissa was laying the table for three in the kitchen just as there was a knock on the back door. ‘How did you know?’ Charlotte asked as she went to open the door; she wasn’t really expecting an answer and Clarissa just smiled enigmatically.
This one is very astute,
the woman thought to herself.
    â€˜Heellooo, my lovelies, what a fabulous day. How are we all? I’ve bought pastries.’
    A woman in Doc Martens, garish summer dress and orange shirt waved a large, oily brown bag, and the various crystal and shell bangles she wore jiggled with her every move.
    â€˜Oh, Clarissa sweetie, you must remind me to tell you all about the Earth Goddess camp I went to last weekend, it was amazing; I feel so alive!’ The woman sing-songed her way through the sentence before bursting into a gush of laughter and kissed the air around Clarissa’s face.
    The whirlwind in front of Charlotte made Clarissa look tame and it was a struggle to keep her mouth shut. The woman’s most striking feature was her hair and Charlotte couldn’t help staring at the multicoloured Mohican. It looked like a parrot was perched on the woman’s head.
    â€˜Charlotte, this is my oldest and dearest friend,’ Clarissa announced aloud, while her face made a silent but emphatic request for Charlotte to be polite.
    â€˜Ahhh, you are the infamous Charlotte, such a pleasure to meet you. Clarissa was soo excited to hear you were coming to stay. It was Charlotte this, Charlotte that.’
    Charlotte couldn’t suppress laughter. That just didn’t fit her picture of Clarissa at all, but she was amused to finally catch a look of shock fleet across Clarissa’s face before it returned to its normal composed self.
    â€˜Nice to meet you… ?’
    â€˜Jude,’ the parrot-haired woman declared like an actress greeting her adoring public. ‘You can call me Auntie Jude if you like.’ She chuckled, ignoring Charlotte’s outstretched hand and giving her a bear hug.
    Why not,
Charlotte thought,
it’s what I seem to be calling everyone else these days
.

    *
    â€˜Pastries’ consisted of almond croissants, seeded brown rolls with creamy French butter and pain au chocolat; Clarissa had even made hot chocolate and sweet, milky coffee to accompany them. They reminded Charlotte of the bakery below Morag’s apartment and the many lazy Sunday mornings in the Place du Tertre cafés taking in the views of the city while Edessa bartered with the portrait artists to teach her their techniques. Charlotte found herself fighting tears again at the memories.
    â€˜What do you think then?’
    Charlotte was brought out of her daydreams by the question. ‘They’re really good, just like the real thing,’ she replied and Jude looked visibly pleased.
    â€˜I ordered them especially from the bakers in Wykenhall, they are so helpful you know.’ Jude gesticulated to emphasise her point. ‘I heard you are a well travelled soul and I thought it would… well, make you feel more at home if that makes sense?’
    Strangely, it did.
    â€˜That’s really kind of you.’ Charlotte was genuinely touched.
    â€˜My Adam sends all sorts of interesting stuff home from his travels in Afghanistan – tree barks and frankincense pearls as big as your finger – he