Read Online Running to Paradise by Virginia Budd - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Virginia Budd
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Miss Bellingham were kneeling on the punt cushions looking at one another in a silly way and they hadn’t even seen the moorhens. The day, somehow, didn’t seem so bright now. ‘You missed the moorhens, you stupid things.’
‘ Don’t speak to your father like that, dear.’ Miss Bellingham dabbed her forehead with a minute, white, lace handkerchief. I promptly stuck out my tongue. A scene was imminent. Pa, pushing his panama hat to the back of his head held out his arms. ‘Come on, you scallywag, we don’t want any tantrums today, it’s too hot. Let’s start lunch. I’m ravenous.’
Lunch was fun and Pa in such a good mood he even gave me a sip of champagne. By the end of the meal Miss Bellingham’s hair was getting all wispy and untidy; there were beads of sweat on her forehead and a few crumbs adhered to her chin, and I was feeling sleepy. I licked my fingers and yawned, then rolled back on the warm cushions and lay looking up at the sun flickering through the branches above me.
‘ That’s right, dear, have a nap.’ Miss Bellingham bent over me, solicitously adjusting the cushions. For a while I sought to fight the drowsiness, then couldn’t be bothered, and fell asleep.
I was woken some time later by the sound of a bumble bee, and sat up instantly, ready for action.
‘ Pa, Pa, what shall we do now?’ But there was no answer: Pa and Miss Bellingham had completely disappeared. Just for a minute I was a little frightened; surely they hadn’t run away and left me? Then I saw Pa’s hat and the food hamper: it was alright, they couldn’t be far. I decided to go and look for them.
I was just wondering which way to go first, when I saw them. They had, for some reason, climbed back into the punt. But what on earth were they doing? Pa appeared to be bouncing up and down on top of Miss Bellingham, who was squeaking like one of the moorhens, and the boat was rocking like anything. What fun! Surely they’d like me to join in the game? I’d give them a surprise. What a joke!
I crept down the bank and waded into the muddy water, which rose nearly to my waist. In a few short steps I had reached the side of the punt and shouting, ‘Let me have a go,’ tried unsuccessfully to haul myself in. In the ensuing scuffle, amidst screams from Miss Bellingham and oaths from Pa, the punt capsized, tipping its occupants into the river.
‘ You little fool,’ yelled Pa, frantically trying to pull up his trousers, his face red with rage. ‘What in Hades did you do that for?’
‘ I wanted to play, I wanted to play,’ I shrieked, jumping up and down in the water. ‘You’re stupid babies; grown-ups don’t play games, it’s silly.’
‘ Don’t you dare speak to me like that...’ Pa had his trousers up by this time, but Miss Bellingham had caught her dress on a branch when she was tipped out of the punt, and as she frantically tried to free herself, it became horribly apparent that all her little pearl buttons were undone and quite a bit of her bosom could be seen, rising creamy white above her camisole...
Miss Bellingham left the following day, watched (I have to admit with some satisfaction) by me from my post at the nursery window. She was driven to the station in the dog cart by Smith, her back straight, her head high and the Gladstone bag full of Fabian tracts (unread) at her feet. She had learned her lesson the hard way and would later become one of the leading lights of the Women’s Suffrage Movement and a passionate disciple of Marie Stopes. As for Pa, he took a small flat in town, where he stayed during the week, and Ma took to her bed.
Shortly after the disastrous boating picnic, on a wild, stormy night in June, my sister, Rosie, was born. Thunder crashed deafeningly around the house and Dr Jervis was delayed for an hour because of an elm struck by lightning blocking the road from the village. Ma’s labour went on for hours and Pa was summoned from London. You could hear Ma’s cries right down the
‘ Don’t speak to your father like that, dear.’ Miss Bellingham dabbed her forehead with a minute, white, lace handkerchief. I promptly stuck out my tongue. A scene was imminent. Pa, pushing his panama hat to the back of his head held out his arms. ‘Come on, you scallywag, we don’t want any tantrums today, it’s too hot. Let’s start lunch. I’m ravenous.’
Lunch was fun and Pa in such a good mood he even gave me a sip of champagne. By the end of the meal Miss Bellingham’s hair was getting all wispy and untidy; there were beads of sweat on her forehead and a few crumbs adhered to her chin, and I was feeling sleepy. I licked my fingers and yawned, then rolled back on the warm cushions and lay looking up at the sun flickering through the branches above me.
‘ That’s right, dear, have a nap.’ Miss Bellingham bent over me, solicitously adjusting the cushions. For a while I sought to fight the drowsiness, then couldn’t be bothered, and fell asleep.
I was woken some time later by the sound of a bumble bee, and sat up instantly, ready for action.
‘ Pa, Pa, what shall we do now?’ But there was no answer: Pa and Miss Bellingham had completely disappeared. Just for a minute I was a little frightened; surely they hadn’t run away and left me? Then I saw Pa’s hat and the food hamper: it was alright, they couldn’t be far. I decided to go and look for them.
I was just wondering which way to go first, when I saw them. They had, for some reason, climbed back into the punt. But what on earth were they doing? Pa appeared to be bouncing up and down on top of Miss Bellingham, who was squeaking like one of the moorhens, and the boat was rocking like anything. What fun! Surely they’d like me to join in the game? I’d give them a surprise. What a joke!
I crept down the bank and waded into the muddy water, which rose nearly to my waist. In a few short steps I had reached the side of the punt and shouting, ‘Let me have a go,’ tried unsuccessfully to haul myself in. In the ensuing scuffle, amidst screams from Miss Bellingham and oaths from Pa, the punt capsized, tipping its occupants into the river.
‘ You little fool,’ yelled Pa, frantically trying to pull up his trousers, his face red with rage. ‘What in Hades did you do that for?’
‘ I wanted to play, I wanted to play,’ I shrieked, jumping up and down in the water. ‘You’re stupid babies; grown-ups don’t play games, it’s silly.’
‘ Don’t you dare speak to me like that...’ Pa had his trousers up by this time, but Miss Bellingham had caught her dress on a branch when she was tipped out of the punt, and as she frantically tried to free herself, it became horribly apparent that all her little pearl buttons were undone and quite a bit of her bosom could be seen, rising creamy white above her camisole...
Miss Bellingham left the following day, watched (I have to admit with some satisfaction) by me from my post at the nursery window. She was driven to the station in the dog cart by Smith, her back straight, her head high and the Gladstone bag full of Fabian tracts (unread) at her feet. She had learned her lesson the hard way and would later become one of the leading lights of the Women’s Suffrage Movement and a passionate disciple of Marie Stopes. As for Pa, he took a small flat in town, where he stayed during the week, and Ma took to her bed.
Shortly after the disastrous boating picnic, on a wild, stormy night in June, my sister, Rosie, was born. Thunder crashed deafeningly around the house and Dr Jervis was delayed for an hour because of an elm struck by lightning blocking the road from the village. Ma’s labour went on for hours and Pa was summoned from London. You could hear Ma’s cries right down the
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