Read Online The Peppermint Pig by Nina Bawden - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nina Bawden
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babies were born and decided against it: children were not supposed to know that sort of thing. She said, ‘Annie Dowsett’s poor.’
‘There are degrees,’ Mother said, speaking absently, and with the creased, worried look on her face that was often there now and that the children had come to recognize as a sign to keep quiet and not ask for anything.
Even letters from Father did not seem to cheer her up as they should have done. Uncle Edmund had left the fruit farm in California to run a saloon in Colorado, and Father had gone with him. The saloon belonged to a woman called Bertha Adams, and for some mysterious reason Uncle Edmund was calling himself Adams, too. ‘I don’t like it,’ Mother said to Aunt Sarah. ‘It smells fishy to me.’
‘How can Colorado smell fishy?’ George asked. ‘It’s nowhere near the sea, is it?’
Aunt Sarah gave him a look and he went back to his book.
‘It seems the fruit farm didn’t belong to Edmund after all,’ Mother said. ‘James says he was manager, but there had been some trouble.’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ Aunt Sarah said. ‘It’s an old story, isn’t it? What I don’t understand is how James let himself be taken in. He knows Edmund! And whatever else you might say about James, he has a good head on his shoulders.’
‘And a hopeful heart in his breast,’ Mother said. ‘The two organs are often at war with each other.’
She put Father’s letter behind the clock on the mantelpiece, looked at her reflection in the mirror above it and ran her hands through her short, crisp curls. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘ Well . If James isn’t going to make our fortune just yet, I had better do something about it.’
She went to Mullen’s shop in the Market Square, dressed in her best coat with the jet trimming and her best hat. When she came back she looked smaller than usual, and tired. Poll and Lily watched her as she unpinned her hat and took it off with a sigh.
Lily said, ‘Are you going to work at Mullen’s, Mother?’ She shook her head and sat down by the fire. Johnnie came and leaned against her and shepulled his ears gently. She said, ‘There’s my good pig.’
Lily said indignantly ‘Why not? He said he’d give you a job, didn’t he?’
‘He offered me one. He wanted me to take charge of the workroom, set me over Marigold Bugg. I didn’t like that idea for a start, bound to make trouble, but that wasn’t all in his mind. When we went into it, I saw what he meant to do. He didn’t say so outright, but I know the old devil! He doesn’t like Marigold – she hasn’t the grit to stand up to him and though she’s a good worker, best cutter he’s got, it makes him look down on her. Once he’d got me in to do the cutting and fitting, he’d get rid of her, and what would she do then, the poor creature? That great boy to care for, and her old father who’d be in the workhouse if she couldn’t keep him, and not a soul in the world cares for her.’
Poll said, ‘But you don’t like Mrs Bugg, Mother? You couldn’t possibly like her!’
‘Since she counts me her friend, that makes it worse, doesn’t it? I’d be letting her down twice over, if I took her place.’
Lily said, ‘Poor Mother,’ and went over to hug her. Poll wished she had thought of doing that and sat feeling left out while Mother held Lily’s hand against her cheek and smiled up to her.
‘Oh, Lily’ she said, ‘whatever Marigold is like now, we were girls together and I can’t forget that. She wasn’t so pursed-up then, she still had a bit ofspunk in her. When we were apprentices, we lived in, you know, and old Mullen was mean about food. Many a time there was just spotted dick for dinner and we threw it out of the window for the hens to pick over and crept down the back stairs to the grocery to get bread and cheese from the young man on the counter. “You’ll have me hung,” he’d say but he always stumped up and back we’d go to the workroom, aprons bulging.
‘There are degrees,’ Mother said, speaking absently, and with the creased, worried look on her face that was often there now and that the children had come to recognize as a sign to keep quiet and not ask for anything.
Even letters from Father did not seem to cheer her up as they should have done. Uncle Edmund had left the fruit farm in California to run a saloon in Colorado, and Father had gone with him. The saloon belonged to a woman called Bertha Adams, and for some mysterious reason Uncle Edmund was calling himself Adams, too. ‘I don’t like it,’ Mother said to Aunt Sarah. ‘It smells fishy to me.’
‘How can Colorado smell fishy?’ George asked. ‘It’s nowhere near the sea, is it?’
Aunt Sarah gave him a look and he went back to his book.
‘It seems the fruit farm didn’t belong to Edmund after all,’ Mother said. ‘James says he was manager, but there had been some trouble.’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ Aunt Sarah said. ‘It’s an old story, isn’t it? What I don’t understand is how James let himself be taken in. He knows Edmund! And whatever else you might say about James, he has a good head on his shoulders.’
‘And a hopeful heart in his breast,’ Mother said. ‘The two organs are often at war with each other.’
She put Father’s letter behind the clock on the mantelpiece, looked at her reflection in the mirror above it and ran her hands through her short, crisp curls. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘ Well . If James isn’t going to make our fortune just yet, I had better do something about it.’
She went to Mullen’s shop in the Market Square, dressed in her best coat with the jet trimming and her best hat. When she came back she looked smaller than usual, and tired. Poll and Lily watched her as she unpinned her hat and took it off with a sigh.
Lily said, ‘Are you going to work at Mullen’s, Mother?’ She shook her head and sat down by the fire. Johnnie came and leaned against her and shepulled his ears gently. She said, ‘There’s my good pig.’
Lily said indignantly ‘Why not? He said he’d give you a job, didn’t he?’
‘He offered me one. He wanted me to take charge of the workroom, set me over Marigold Bugg. I didn’t like that idea for a start, bound to make trouble, but that wasn’t all in his mind. When we went into it, I saw what he meant to do. He didn’t say so outright, but I know the old devil! He doesn’t like Marigold – she hasn’t the grit to stand up to him and though she’s a good worker, best cutter he’s got, it makes him look down on her. Once he’d got me in to do the cutting and fitting, he’d get rid of her, and what would she do then, the poor creature? That great boy to care for, and her old father who’d be in the workhouse if she couldn’t keep him, and not a soul in the world cares for her.’
Poll said, ‘But you don’t like Mrs Bugg, Mother? You couldn’t possibly like her!’
‘Since she counts me her friend, that makes it worse, doesn’t it? I’d be letting her down twice over, if I took her place.’
Lily said, ‘Poor Mother,’ and went over to hug her. Poll wished she had thought of doing that and sat feeling left out while Mother held Lily’s hand against her cheek and smiled up to her.
‘Oh, Lily’ she said, ‘whatever Marigold is like now, we were girls together and I can’t forget that. She wasn’t so pursed-up then, she still had a bit ofspunk in her. When we were apprentices, we lived in, you know, and old Mullen was mean about food. Many a time there was just spotted dick for dinner and we threw it out of the window for the hens to pick over and crept down the back stairs to the grocery to get bread and cheese from the young man on the counter. “You’ll have me hung,” he’d say but he always stumped up and back we’d go to the workroom, aprons bulging.
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