Read Online Postcards from the Past by Marcia Willett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marcia Willett
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down on a chair and Billa stared at it, hearing strange rustlings and small whimpering noises. Her father was smiling at her, indicating that she should remove the lid. She did so very warily, and there was a puppy of indeterminate parentage scrambling around in a nest of tissue paper. Billa gave a cry of joyful disbelief and lifted the warm wriggling body out of the box. Ed was beaming with pleasure and pride that he’d managed to keep such a secret; her mother clapping and laughing; her friends crowding round with cries of envious delight.
‘He’s a very nice first-cross,’ her father was saying. ‘Bits of cairn and bits of Jack Russell…’ and so he became Bitser.
* * *
‘What a funny-looking dog,’ said Tris. ‘He’s a mongrel, isn’t he?’
Bitser didn’t like Tris. He growled when Tris slipped out a quick foot to kick him or teased him with a biscuit, offered and then snatched away. Tris never did this when a grown-up was looking but managed to time the reaction so that what they actually saw was Tris pretending to stroke Bitser, who was growling by now, or even snapping. Tris would look at his father, mouth turned down, pretending sadness and Andrew would say: ‘Bad-tempered brute, isn’t he?’ which made Billa rise in hot defence of Bitser.
‘Tris is teasing him again,’ but Tris shrugged wide-eyed innocent surprise at such an accusation, and their mother said, ‘Take Bitser outside, Billa.’
Their mother and Andrew decided that Bitser was jealous of Tris and needed to be taught that Tris was now part of the family. Gradually small privileges were withdrawn. Bitser was no longer allowed to sit on the sofa in the drawing-room, he was banished to the laundry room at mealtimes and was banned from Andrew’s car. Nobody could stop Billa from taking him upstairs to her room at night, however. Bitser would curl up at the foot of the bed and Billa sat beside him, stroking him, trying to make up for these new puzzling exclusions.
‘But what shall I do,’ Billa asked Dom as the long summer holiday drew to an end, ‘when I go back to school? Mother has always been glad to have Bitser around when we’re away. He used to sleep in her room. But she won’t need him now she’s got Andrew.’
She sounded bitter. It was still a shock to see Andrew going into her mother’s room at night; to see him in the morning through the half-open bedroom door, half-naked and unshaven in the rumpled bed, drinking coffee whilst her mother perched beside him, laughing at some remark. He’d see Billa passing and raise his cup almost challengingly to her whilst his other hand held her mother’s wrist, and Billa blushed scarlet and scuttled away, confused and embarrassed by her own reactions.
Just as Ed withdrew to the study so Billa clung more to Bitser; their father’s gift to her. She began to wage her own war, which was, of necessity, directed more against their mother than their chief tormentor, Tris.
‘Do you remember…’ she’d begin – and then it might be anything that involved Bitser and their father. Her mother grew to dread this casual, conversational opening – but it was the only weapon Billa had in her armoury of self-protection against the dismantling of her past.
So she went to Dom, Bitser rushing ahead, and ‘What shall I do?’ she asked him. ‘Could you have Bitser with you?’
The potager had an autumnal feel about it now. The sunflowers’ heavy heads drooped, though the sweet peas still carried their blooms amongst the pea-sticks. Pumpkins and gourds were fattening, and the bright flowers of the nasturtiums trailed across slate paths and beneath the hedge.
They sat together in the soft September sunshine and Billa longed to lean nearer to Dom, to feel the comfort of his arm round her.
‘I can’t have him,’ Dom was saying wretchedly. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t, Billa. I’m going to be in lodgings in Camborne and, anyway, what would happen to him all day while I’m
‘He’s a very nice first-cross,’ her father was saying. ‘Bits of cairn and bits of Jack Russell…’ and so he became Bitser.
* * *
‘What a funny-looking dog,’ said Tris. ‘He’s a mongrel, isn’t he?’
Bitser didn’t like Tris. He growled when Tris slipped out a quick foot to kick him or teased him with a biscuit, offered and then snatched away. Tris never did this when a grown-up was looking but managed to time the reaction so that what they actually saw was Tris pretending to stroke Bitser, who was growling by now, or even snapping. Tris would look at his father, mouth turned down, pretending sadness and Andrew would say: ‘Bad-tempered brute, isn’t he?’ which made Billa rise in hot defence of Bitser.
‘Tris is teasing him again,’ but Tris shrugged wide-eyed innocent surprise at such an accusation, and their mother said, ‘Take Bitser outside, Billa.’
Their mother and Andrew decided that Bitser was jealous of Tris and needed to be taught that Tris was now part of the family. Gradually small privileges were withdrawn. Bitser was no longer allowed to sit on the sofa in the drawing-room, he was banished to the laundry room at mealtimes and was banned from Andrew’s car. Nobody could stop Billa from taking him upstairs to her room at night, however. Bitser would curl up at the foot of the bed and Billa sat beside him, stroking him, trying to make up for these new puzzling exclusions.
‘But what shall I do,’ Billa asked Dom as the long summer holiday drew to an end, ‘when I go back to school? Mother has always been glad to have Bitser around when we’re away. He used to sleep in her room. But she won’t need him now she’s got Andrew.’
She sounded bitter. It was still a shock to see Andrew going into her mother’s room at night; to see him in the morning through the half-open bedroom door, half-naked and unshaven in the rumpled bed, drinking coffee whilst her mother perched beside him, laughing at some remark. He’d see Billa passing and raise his cup almost challengingly to her whilst his other hand held her mother’s wrist, and Billa blushed scarlet and scuttled away, confused and embarrassed by her own reactions.
Just as Ed withdrew to the study so Billa clung more to Bitser; their father’s gift to her. She began to wage her own war, which was, of necessity, directed more against their mother than their chief tormentor, Tris.
‘Do you remember…’ she’d begin – and then it might be anything that involved Bitser and their father. Her mother grew to dread this casual, conversational opening – but it was the only weapon Billa had in her armoury of self-protection against the dismantling of her past.
So she went to Dom, Bitser rushing ahead, and ‘What shall I do?’ she asked him. ‘Could you have Bitser with you?’
The potager had an autumnal feel about it now. The sunflowers’ heavy heads drooped, though the sweet peas still carried their blooms amongst the pea-sticks. Pumpkins and gourds were fattening, and the bright flowers of the nasturtiums trailed across slate paths and beneath the hedge.
They sat together in the soft September sunshine and Billa longed to lean nearer to Dom, to feel the comfort of his arm round her.
‘I can’t have him,’ Dom was saying wretchedly. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t, Billa. I’m going to be in lodgings in Camborne and, anyway, what would happen to him all day while I’m
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