Read Online Spirit by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online

kitchen range, so that it’s red-hot, and burn two holes for eyes.’
    â€˜Yes!’ agreed Laura, excitedly. ‘A red-hot poker! A red-hot poker!’
    They went back to the kitchen, much to Ampersand’s disgust. Laura kept guard while Elizabeth heated up the poker. Then they rushed out with it and Elizabeth jabbed it into the snow angel’s canvas face. With a sizzle and an acrid smell of burning, two black-circled eyes appeared.
    â€˜And a mouth, too!’ said Laura, jumping up and down. ‘Quick! Make her a mouth!’
    When they had finished, they stood and admired their snow-angel, and then Elizabeth said, ‘We ought to pray.’
    They knelt in the snow even though it was wet and bitterly cold, and Elizabeth squeezed her eyes tight and said, ‘Dear Lord, this is our memorial to our dear sister who we loved. Please see it and bless it and make Peggy into an angel.’
    â€˜Amen,’ said Laura, and sniffed.
    By the time the girls had tugged off each other’s boots and hung up their snowy coats and hats, the funeral guests were beginning to leave. Father and mommy were kissed and hugged again and again, and there were sorrowful faces and tears and slapping of backs and extraordinary yelps of grief, many of which might have been inspired by Mrs Patrick’s punch. All the same, it was a sad, disassembled moment.
    As they stood at the foot of the stairs, however, dutiful and pale in their mourning dresses, Elizabeth and Laura could sense a general feeling of relief. Peggy had been laid to rest, thank goodness, and her soul had been commended to God – whether she reappeared as a twinkling star or a Cuban girl inthe Plaza de Armas or as nothing more than a gradually fading memory, less and less distinct as the years passed by.
    Dear Peggy, thought Elizabeth. I hope you can hear me. I hope that God has seen our snow-angel, and taken you up into heaven.
    They all returned to the living-room. Father said, ‘Thank God that’s over.’ Through the open doorway, they could see Mrs Patrick noisily clearing up the dishes. Mommy lifted her veil and her face looked puffy and bruised, as if she had been punched. ‘I need a drink,’ she told father. Without a word, he went to the cocktail cabinet and poured her a gin. He was about to close the cabinet again, but then he turned to Elizabeth and Laura, and smiled. He poured each of them a tonic water with rock-syrup and a maraschino cherry; and winked. ‘Cocktails, at your age? Whatever next!’
    Mommy said, ‘I don’t know whether I’m glad it’s over or not. I feel as if she’s been tugged right out of my arms, just ripped away from me. My beautiful littlest baby.’
    Tears streamed down her cheeks and she made no attempt to wipe them away. Elizabeth took a handkerchief out of her sleeve and cautiously handed it to her. Mommy stared at it for a while as if she couldn’t think what it was, then dabbed her eyes.
    â€˜I don’t understand how life can be so cruel,’ she said. ‘I gave up everything! I gave up my youth! I gave up my career! Wasn’t that enough, for God’s sake?’
    Father said nothing but stood on the opposite side of the room, watching her cautiously. She wandered around the living-room, drunk and distracted, touching the walls for support, and also to reassure herself that she was still here. Then she went through to the dining-room, and sat down opposite Mrs Patrick.
    â€˜You’ve been such a help, Mrs Patrick,’ she said. ‘A Godsend! I don’t know what I would have done without you.No! I mean it. I don’t know what anybody would do without you.’
    â€˜It’s all shoulders to the wheel in times of trouble,’ said Mrs Patrick, scraping plates.
    Seamus came up, unsteadily balancing a trayful of punch glasses.
    â€˜You, too, Seamus,’ mommy blurted. ‘You’ve been wonderful.’
    â€˜Times of