Read Online Opposite the Cross Keys by S. T. Haymon - Free Book Online Page A

to await their final ingestion.
    It might have been expected that, unsympathetic as I was from the start to the very idea of the lovely Ellie, the belle of Salham St Awdry, I would have been cockahoop to discover there was no such animal, only this blowsy creature with drab hair. On the contrary, it distressed me greatly. I felt guilty and inadequate at what I took as a failure of my own perceptions, that I could not perceive a beauty which – it was plain from the others’ admiring homage – was there to be acknowledged by anyone else with eyes in his head. What was the matter with mine?
    Ellie admired herself in the mirror, turning her head on its short neck. She looked across at me with contempt, and demanded, ‘Can you sit on your hair?’
    Since my hair, cut short with a centre parting and fringe, barely covered my ears, it was not really a question calling for an answer. Nevertheless, I answered in a small voice, ‘No. I’m afraid I can’t.’
    â€˜I thought not,’ remarked Ellie, sitting back, well satisfied.
    Tom, on the other hand, the elder of Maud’s two brothers, was beautiful; or would have been, if something – as a child I had no idea what it might be – had not happened to him.
    That night, on our way home on the bus, nestled blissfully between Maud’s left arm and her bony hip, I asked sleepily, ‘Why is Tom like that?’
    Maud drew away, making me sit up, pouting.
    â€˜Like what?’
    Me, faltering as I perceived that once again, all unmeaning, I had put my foot in it: ‘Like the way he is.’
    Maud repeated fiercely, ‘What you mean, the way he is? He’s the way he is like everyone’s the way they are. Why are you the way you are, little Miss Swankpot, I’d like to know?’
    Tears of disappointment welled up in my eyes. Up to that moment it had been such a lovely day.
    â€˜I didn’t mean anything –’
    â€˜It’s that nose of yours!’ Maud looked sideways at the offending organ as if she couldn’t stand the sight of it. ‘It’s turning up again, I can see it.’
    â€˜It isn’t! It isn’t!’
    Maud appeared not to have heard.
    â€˜If you had the sense to use the eyes God give you ’stead of that stuck-up nose of yours, you’d ’a seen what coat he was wearing.’
    â€˜I did see it, so there! An old Army one.’ Comprehension dawning: ‘You don’t mean he was in the War and got wounded, and that’s what it is?’
    Maud answered cryptically, ‘People who know how to put two an’ two together an’ make four, wouldn’t need to ask.’
    â€˜But the War was so long ago. I didn’t think –’ I dropped that line quickly as Maud’s face began to darken again, and anyway being quite unequal to figuring out how old Tom would have needed to be to have fought in the Great War. Instead, I asked placatingly, ‘Did he get gassed like the man who sells matches outside Woolworth’s? Is that why he’s like that?’
    Maud’s wart quivered, a dire portent.
    â€˜There you go again! Like what?’
    I could not bear the day to peter out in ill will. Out of the bus window, behind my reflection and Maud’s, I could see that we were just coming up to Horsford Point, where the mighty lozenge was doing its balancing act against the setting sun.
    â€˜Ma gerto o ca,’ I mouthed silently, knowing it was hopeless, but hoping just the same.
    â€˜Like what ?’ Maud repeated ominously.
    â€˜Like – an angel,’ something made me say. Something magic.

Chapter Five
    Tom had a face like an angel in a medieval picture except that it was unfinished. It looked as if the painter had got so far – only a very little further to go – when he put his brush down. Perhaps the glory had suddenly become too much for him. All the usual features were there and in their accustomed places