Read Online Perfectly Pure and Good by Frances Fyfield - Free Book Online
Authors: Frances Fyfield
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hands, the one holding garden weeds, the other, pissenlit.
`Yes, I will,' she murmured. Ì'm sure the cow will like them.'
She scuttled sideways, swifter than a crab, towards the front door, just as the bell rang. With the row and all, no-one had heard the sound of an engine, usually discernible from a hundred yards.
Each knew the sound of their various old cars, parked outside like a row of sentinels. Edward was feigning deafness in his watchtower, pretending to paint his rubbishy daubs and reading poetry, defying the necessity to earn a living, while his sister suspended life through cooking and pretending that was enough.
Julian surveyed them all with despair. Mother was agile. She reached the door first, could not work out a way to open it with her hands full, stood back, grinning like a cat. Edward bounded downstairs, straightening a big floppy cravat; Joanna stood back and Julian hesitated. They were not used to guests.
Another knock. None of them could answer the door. She would have to open it herself A figure stepped into the gloom of the hall. Mother staggered forward, still grinning, dropping the flowers at Sarah Fortune's feet.
Òh,' said the guest without a hint of discomposure. 'How lovely. You shouldn't.' She stopped to pick dandelions from the floor, carefully and swiftly, like a person used to gathering weeds with great respect. They watched, fascinated. She had straightened up with the flowers in a neat bunch by the time Julian switched on the cruel hall light. Dressed in khaki, she was, a princess in her brown freckled skin with her red hair kinking over her shoulders and a tan belt round her waist and small hips, clothed in nothing which was not utterly neutral while remaining a mass of colours all the same. A humorous face, a square jaw and a smile which embraced the giver of the dandelions. Not beautiful, but stunning.
Mother picked up the last, ceremoniously. Sarah bowed and stuck it down the front of her dress.
Mother beamed.
`Would you mind coming straight on in? Supper's ready. No time for washing and all that stuff.'
Joanna spoke roughly.
Sarah nodded. 'Of course. I'm really sorry I'm so late. I wouldn't have been but I'm such a silly cow, I got lost.'
`Cow!' Mother collapsed in giggles. Sarah took her extended hand.
`What fabulous feathers,' she said. 'I wish I was allowed to wear those.'
CHAPTER THREE
They all stared aghast. It was love at first sight. Before grace, before dinner. Before the second batch of burnt cheese sauce and before anyone heard the sound of the distant, ghostly tinkling of the ice-cream-van bell. There was a full second of silence until the sound died. Mother clapped her hands.
`What the hell's he doing here?' Edward snarled. Sarah turned her gaze on him. He wilted.
Ì'm afraid that's my fault. I stopped at a, what do you call them, amusement arcade, to ask directions, and this man volunteered to lead me here. I thought it was charming. I've never had such an escort.' Joanna was brick red. She no longer cared if dinner was edible.
Instant love turned to instant hate and then to love again as she fled to the kitchen. Edward looked amused. This was only a woman, not the gimlet-eyed professional he had slightly dreaded; she was too attractive to be a threat. Julian led her inside. His manner was barely less than brusque; he was shaking slightly and he did not seem able to take his eyes off her hair.
Outside, Hettie the sheep bleated. Mother had placed a bow round her neck. Only a youth called Rick noticed and remembered fondly as he drove back to work.
Stonewall hung about the amusement arcade as long as he could and as late as he dared, sick with anxiety and knowing that, sooner or later, he'd be shooed away. There had been twenty minutes of sheer bliss, when he'd been left in charge when Rick came in from a quick stroll on the quay, talking to someone, said he'd be off for five, would he, Stonewall, take charge? The arcade belonged to Rick's dad, who was a
`Yes, I will,' she murmured. Ì'm sure the cow will like them.'
She scuttled sideways, swifter than a crab, towards the front door, just as the bell rang. With the row and all, no-one had heard the sound of an engine, usually discernible from a hundred yards.
Each knew the sound of their various old cars, parked outside like a row of sentinels. Edward was feigning deafness in his watchtower, pretending to paint his rubbishy daubs and reading poetry, defying the necessity to earn a living, while his sister suspended life through cooking and pretending that was enough.
Julian surveyed them all with despair. Mother was agile. She reached the door first, could not work out a way to open it with her hands full, stood back, grinning like a cat. Edward bounded downstairs, straightening a big floppy cravat; Joanna stood back and Julian hesitated. They were not used to guests.
Another knock. None of them could answer the door. She would have to open it herself A figure stepped into the gloom of the hall. Mother staggered forward, still grinning, dropping the flowers at Sarah Fortune's feet.
Òh,' said the guest without a hint of discomposure. 'How lovely. You shouldn't.' She stopped to pick dandelions from the floor, carefully and swiftly, like a person used to gathering weeds with great respect. They watched, fascinated. She had straightened up with the flowers in a neat bunch by the time Julian switched on the cruel hall light. Dressed in khaki, she was, a princess in her brown freckled skin with her red hair kinking over her shoulders and a tan belt round her waist and small hips, clothed in nothing which was not utterly neutral while remaining a mass of colours all the same. A humorous face, a square jaw and a smile which embraced the giver of the dandelions. Not beautiful, but stunning.
Mother picked up the last, ceremoniously. Sarah bowed and stuck it down the front of her dress.
Mother beamed.
`Would you mind coming straight on in? Supper's ready. No time for washing and all that stuff.'
Joanna spoke roughly.
Sarah nodded. 'Of course. I'm really sorry I'm so late. I wouldn't have been but I'm such a silly cow, I got lost.'
`Cow!' Mother collapsed in giggles. Sarah took her extended hand.
`What fabulous feathers,' she said. 'I wish I was allowed to wear those.'
CHAPTER THREE
They all stared aghast. It was love at first sight. Before grace, before dinner. Before the second batch of burnt cheese sauce and before anyone heard the sound of the distant, ghostly tinkling of the ice-cream-van bell. There was a full second of silence until the sound died. Mother clapped her hands.
`What the hell's he doing here?' Edward snarled. Sarah turned her gaze on him. He wilted.
Ì'm afraid that's my fault. I stopped at a, what do you call them, amusement arcade, to ask directions, and this man volunteered to lead me here. I thought it was charming. I've never had such an escort.' Joanna was brick red. She no longer cared if dinner was edible.
Instant love turned to instant hate and then to love again as she fled to the kitchen. Edward looked amused. This was only a woman, not the gimlet-eyed professional he had slightly dreaded; she was too attractive to be a threat. Julian led her inside. His manner was barely less than brusque; he was shaking slightly and he did not seem able to take his eyes off her hair.
Outside, Hettie the sheep bleated. Mother had placed a bow round her neck. Only a youth called Rick noticed and remembered fondly as he drove back to work.
Stonewall hung about the amusement arcade as long as he could and as late as he dared, sick with anxiety and knowing that, sooner or later, he'd be shooed away. There had been twenty minutes of sheer bliss, when he'd been left in charge when Rick came in from a quick stroll on the quay, talking to someone, said he'd be off for five, would he, Stonewall, take charge? The arcade belonged to Rick's dad, who was a
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