Read Online The Boat House by Pamela Oldfield - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pamela Oldfield
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those charming young men in boaters and striped blazers! Surely they cannot all be accompanied by equally charming young women. Maybe I will meet Mr Right!
The daylight was going and Marianne stopped writing, rubbed her tired eyes and glanced out over the lawn. Clouds were rolling up beyond the boat house and for a moment she thought she saw a flickering light within its dilapidated frame.
‘Stop it, Marianne!’ she told herself. ‘It’s probably the light from a boat moving up river, or from a fisherman on the opposite bank.’ Just in case there was no rational explanation, she decided to draw the curtains. If there was an unhappy spirit trying to attract her attention, she wanted none of it. I have quite enough to deal with in the present , she thought, without getting involved with the past .
FOUR
T he next day, when the twins had arrived home full of excitement following Ivan’s birthday party, they sat with Marianne on a seat set alongside the river while the latter attempted to explain about different languages. Emmie appeared vaguely interested but Edie seemed to find the lesson boring.
Marianne pointed to a lady and gentlemen who were walking past with a small white dog on a lead. ‘We call that a dog,’ she said. ‘In France they would call it a chien. ’
Emmie said dutifully, ‘A dog is a chien. ’ She turned to her sister. ‘Say it, Edie.’
Edie swung her legs. ‘Why don’t they just say dog?’
‘Because we’re learning what French people say,’ Emmie told her loftily. ‘Grandmother wants us to learn some French words and . . .’
‘Here comes a boat!’ Edie jumped from the seat and rushed towards the water’s edge to get a better view and Emmie followed. Marianne moved closer to them as they all watched a young man who propelled the slim wooden boat by pushing a long pole against the river bottom. He waved to the twins and, by doing so, made the punt swerve a little so that the woman who accompanied him gave a little shriek and said, ‘Tommy, darling, do watch what you’re doing!’
The twins waved back.
Edie said hopefully, ‘Are they going to fall in?’
Marianne laughed. ‘I hope not.’
‘What do they call a boat in France, Marianne?’
‘ Bateau .’
‘So dog is chien and boat is bateau .’ Emmie gave her sister a smug look.
Edie tossed her head. ‘It’s silly!’
‘No, it isn’t.’
‘It is . . . Oh look! The swans are coming over. They want some bread!’
They both looked at Marianne who shook her head.
‘The bread’s all gone,’ she told them. ‘You gave it all to the ducks.’ Seizing the moment she said, ‘Bread is called pain in France.’ She pronounced it correctly, as pan.
Emmie frowned. ‘Like saucepan?’
While Marianne tried to explain, a man approached them and Edie cried out with delight. ‘It’s the lollipop man!’
Marianne turned to find a pleasant-looking man holding out a small white card, which she accepted cautiously.
‘Donald Watson – Private Investigator,’ she read aloud.
‘It’s the lollipop man! We met him when we were out with Hattie.’ Edie beamed at him hopefully.
Emmie, reading her sister’s expression, said, ‘We aren’t in the park now. There aren’t any lollipops here.’
Marianne looked up from the card and said evenly, ‘I assume this meeting is not a coincidence, Mr Watson.’
‘No. I’d very much like to talk to you some time, somewhere convenient. If you would contact me. I’ve written my office number on the back. We would need to be discreet.’
‘Discreet? Oh dear . . .’ The suddenness of his appearance had made her wary. ‘I’ll have to . . . to consider it.’
Edie said, ‘Is your wife coming today? We’ve seen a boat and the man steered the boat with his pole and made the boat go a bit wobbly and the lady said, “Do watch what you’re doing, darling!” and his name was Tommy but we don’t know her name.’
Emmie, not to be outdone, said, ‘We’re learning French
The daylight was going and Marianne stopped writing, rubbed her tired eyes and glanced out over the lawn. Clouds were rolling up beyond the boat house and for a moment she thought she saw a flickering light within its dilapidated frame.
‘Stop it, Marianne!’ she told herself. ‘It’s probably the light from a boat moving up river, or from a fisherman on the opposite bank.’ Just in case there was no rational explanation, she decided to draw the curtains. If there was an unhappy spirit trying to attract her attention, she wanted none of it. I have quite enough to deal with in the present , she thought, without getting involved with the past .
FOUR
T he next day, when the twins had arrived home full of excitement following Ivan’s birthday party, they sat with Marianne on a seat set alongside the river while the latter attempted to explain about different languages. Emmie appeared vaguely interested but Edie seemed to find the lesson boring.
Marianne pointed to a lady and gentlemen who were walking past with a small white dog on a lead. ‘We call that a dog,’ she said. ‘In France they would call it a chien. ’
Emmie said dutifully, ‘A dog is a chien. ’ She turned to her sister. ‘Say it, Edie.’
Edie swung her legs. ‘Why don’t they just say dog?’
‘Because we’re learning what French people say,’ Emmie told her loftily. ‘Grandmother wants us to learn some French words and . . .’
‘Here comes a boat!’ Edie jumped from the seat and rushed towards the water’s edge to get a better view and Emmie followed. Marianne moved closer to them as they all watched a young man who propelled the slim wooden boat by pushing a long pole against the river bottom. He waved to the twins and, by doing so, made the punt swerve a little so that the woman who accompanied him gave a little shriek and said, ‘Tommy, darling, do watch what you’re doing!’
The twins waved back.
Edie said hopefully, ‘Are they going to fall in?’
Marianne laughed. ‘I hope not.’
‘What do they call a boat in France, Marianne?’
‘ Bateau .’
‘So dog is chien and boat is bateau .’ Emmie gave her sister a smug look.
Edie tossed her head. ‘It’s silly!’
‘No, it isn’t.’
‘It is . . . Oh look! The swans are coming over. They want some bread!’
They both looked at Marianne who shook her head.
‘The bread’s all gone,’ she told them. ‘You gave it all to the ducks.’ Seizing the moment she said, ‘Bread is called pain in France.’ She pronounced it correctly, as pan.
Emmie frowned. ‘Like saucepan?’
While Marianne tried to explain, a man approached them and Edie cried out with delight. ‘It’s the lollipop man!’
Marianne turned to find a pleasant-looking man holding out a small white card, which she accepted cautiously.
‘Donald Watson – Private Investigator,’ she read aloud.
‘It’s the lollipop man! We met him when we were out with Hattie.’ Edie beamed at him hopefully.
Emmie, reading her sister’s expression, said, ‘We aren’t in the park now. There aren’t any lollipops here.’
Marianne looked up from the card and said evenly, ‘I assume this meeting is not a coincidence, Mr Watson.’
‘No. I’d very much like to talk to you some time, somewhere convenient. If you would contact me. I’ve written my office number on the back. We would need to be discreet.’
‘Discreet? Oh dear . . .’ The suddenness of his appearance had made her wary. ‘I’ll have to . . . to consider it.’
Edie said, ‘Is your wife coming today? We’ve seen a boat and the man steered the boat with his pole and made the boat go a bit wobbly and the lady said, “Do watch what you’re doing, darling!” and his name was Tommy but we don’t know her name.’
Emmie, not to be outdone, said, ‘We’re learning French
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