Read Online The Diary Of Pamela D. by greg monks - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: greg monks
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curtain.
‘Oh, my poor little Emma! I’ve been such an unconscionable
bastard!’ He put his head in his hands and wept. ‘She’ll never
forgive me.’
Setting down her tea, going to Mr. Cross and
kneeling before him, Pamela said, ‘I think everything will be fine
from now on, Mr. Cross. An unwanted pregnancy is a hard thing to
deal with, but this is your grandson. Emma will want you to see
him.’
Mr. Cross took her hands,
tears spilling unashamedly from his eyes. ‘God bless you, lass! You’re a saint , that’s what you
are!’ He got to his feet, took a deep breath as though considering
how to face whatever was waiting for him atop the loft, and began
the ascent.
‘Is Her Saintship ready to go home?’ Theo said. His smile, for once, though
slightly mocking, couldn’t conceal the kindness that lay behind
it.
‘ Her
Saintship isn’t looking forward to making
that journey twice,’ Pamela said, and took a sip of her tea. ‘But
we’d better get on with it before I fall asleep.’
It was nearly seven when Pamela stumbled back
to the Dewhurst mansion, leaning on Theo’s arm for support, unaware
that she was doing so, and all but prostrate from exhaustion.
Without saying a word to anyone she made her way upstairs, threw
herself prone upon her bed without first removing her clothing, and
was instantly asleep.
-4-
Pamela slept remarkably few hours (for her),
waking up at one o’clock in the afternoon. Getting out of bed she
noted belatedly that she was dressed in warm bedclothes, a
realisation that caused her to flush with embarrassment. ‘Someone
undressed me completely and put me to bed!’ Yet at the same time
this discovery brought out feelings she hadn’t experienced since
she was a little girl. That someone, probably Ellie and Doris, had
taken care of her, had dressed her in a heavy flannel nightgown and
put her to bed. She found that it was a good feeling, like being
picked up and held in someone’s arms.
She wanted to thank Theo for lending her his
strength and support the night before, but found she didn’t know
how. She was spared having to try, however, because upon going
downstairs she discovered that Theo had left for London at eight
that morning, obviously without sleep; she was told he would be
gone for two weeks. Feeling strangely disappointed, she threw
herself with renewed vigour into the housework she had begun,
spending whole days cleaning the kitchen before moving on to other
parts of the mansion.
A few days later, while Pamela was standing
on top of the dining-room table polishing the cut-glass prisms of
the chandelier, Doris answered the front door when the bell rang.
She returned a few moments later, sorting through several
envelopes. ‘There’s something in the mail here for you, Pamela,’
she said, her voice belying nothing. ‘I’ll leave it here on the
table for you.’
Too engrossed in what she was doing to stop,
Pamela finished cleaning the last of the grime from the chandelier
and tossed her rag in the bucket, its sloshing contents a murky
yellow-brown, attesting to years of accumulated cooking grease and
smoke stain. Only belatedly she remembered the letter and picked it
up. To her delight, she discovered that it was from Tessa. She tore
it open, and read:
Dear Pamela:
Would you mind very much if I called you Pam?
Everyone calls me Tess, except for my aunts and uncles. There’s no
need for formality between friends, now is there?
I got your letter only today. Sorry I didn’t
write sooner but we only got back from Danby last night so I didn’t
have much of a chance.
How are aunt Ellie and aunt
Doris getting along? They are special, aren’t they? I can’t imagine why they
never married, except that they’ve always been perfectly satisfied
with their own company, at least, that what I’ve been told. No place for a man
in their lives, it
seems, unless it’s a visit from the gardener.
Mum wants to know if you can
come visit us this
‘Oh, my poor little Emma! I’ve been such an unconscionable
bastard!’ He put his head in his hands and wept. ‘She’ll never
forgive me.’
Setting down her tea, going to Mr. Cross and
kneeling before him, Pamela said, ‘I think everything will be fine
from now on, Mr. Cross. An unwanted pregnancy is a hard thing to
deal with, but this is your grandson. Emma will want you to see
him.’
Mr. Cross took her hands,
tears spilling unashamedly from his eyes. ‘God bless you, lass! You’re a saint , that’s what you
are!’ He got to his feet, took a deep breath as though considering
how to face whatever was waiting for him atop the loft, and began
the ascent.
‘Is Her Saintship ready to go home?’ Theo said. His smile, for once, though
slightly mocking, couldn’t conceal the kindness that lay behind
it.
‘ Her
Saintship isn’t looking forward to making
that journey twice,’ Pamela said, and took a sip of her tea. ‘But
we’d better get on with it before I fall asleep.’
It was nearly seven when Pamela stumbled back
to the Dewhurst mansion, leaning on Theo’s arm for support, unaware
that she was doing so, and all but prostrate from exhaustion.
Without saying a word to anyone she made her way upstairs, threw
herself prone upon her bed without first removing her clothing, and
was instantly asleep.
-4-
Pamela slept remarkably few hours (for her),
waking up at one o’clock in the afternoon. Getting out of bed she
noted belatedly that she was dressed in warm bedclothes, a
realisation that caused her to flush with embarrassment. ‘Someone
undressed me completely and put me to bed!’ Yet at the same time
this discovery brought out feelings she hadn’t experienced since
she was a little girl. That someone, probably Ellie and Doris, had
taken care of her, had dressed her in a heavy flannel nightgown and
put her to bed. She found that it was a good feeling, like being
picked up and held in someone’s arms.
She wanted to thank Theo for lending her his
strength and support the night before, but found she didn’t know
how. She was spared having to try, however, because upon going
downstairs she discovered that Theo had left for London at eight
that morning, obviously without sleep; she was told he would be
gone for two weeks. Feeling strangely disappointed, she threw
herself with renewed vigour into the housework she had begun,
spending whole days cleaning the kitchen before moving on to other
parts of the mansion.
A few days later, while Pamela was standing
on top of the dining-room table polishing the cut-glass prisms of
the chandelier, Doris answered the front door when the bell rang.
She returned a few moments later, sorting through several
envelopes. ‘There’s something in the mail here for you, Pamela,’
she said, her voice belying nothing. ‘I’ll leave it here on the
table for you.’
Too engrossed in what she was doing to stop,
Pamela finished cleaning the last of the grime from the chandelier
and tossed her rag in the bucket, its sloshing contents a murky
yellow-brown, attesting to years of accumulated cooking grease and
smoke stain. Only belatedly she remembered the letter and picked it
up. To her delight, she discovered that it was from Tessa. She tore
it open, and read:
Dear Pamela:
Would you mind very much if I called you Pam?
Everyone calls me Tess, except for my aunts and uncles. There’s no
need for formality between friends, now is there?
I got your letter only today. Sorry I didn’t
write sooner but we only got back from Danby last night so I didn’t
have much of a chance.
How are aunt Ellie and aunt
Doris getting along? They are special, aren’t they? I can’t imagine why they
never married, except that they’ve always been perfectly satisfied
with their own company, at least, that what I’ve been told. No place for a man
in their lives, it
seems, unless it’s a visit from the gardener.
Mum wants to know if you can
come visit us this
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