Read Online The Secret of Crickley Hall by James Herbert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Herbert
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and hair gel, and stuffed them back inside the magazine.
Just then, Cally came trotting round a floor shelf clutching a tube of Smarties in one hand (she guessed her mother would refuse to let her have them so, even at that tender age aware that daddies were much easier to manipulate, she was bringing them to Gabe). She came to a stop when she saw the big girl and boy glaring at Loren and heard them call her a silly name. Cally poked her tongue out at them.
'Spazzie,' the big girl called her.
'Bite my shorts,' Cally replied.
Loren put a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. She took her sister's hand and led her away. 'It's not bite my shorts, Cally,' she whispered, leaning close to Cally's ear. 'Bart always says eat my shorts.'
Gabe had witnessed the minor encounter from behind the bookrack, reluctant to interfere: Loren had to learn to stand up for herself. Sure, if the situation had got serious, if the girl and boy had tried physically to bully his daughter, then he would have stepped in, but instead Cally's response had made him wince, then grin. They really had to wean their youngest daughter off The Simpsons .
'What are you two up to back there?' came a stern voice from the other side of the shop. It was the shopkeeper, whose broad upper body was angled over the counter as she stood on tiptoe to see round the magazine racks. 'Is that you acting the maggot, Seraphina Blaney? Come on out and bring yer daft brother Quentin with yer. Yer've spent too long already moochin' around. Are yer buyin' or not?'
Reluctantly, the girl sidled out from behind the magazines, the boy, who must have been about fourteen, slouching after her, and Loren got a good look at them both as they deliberately brushed by her.
'Saddo,' the girl slyly said to Loren as she passed; the acne-cursed youth sneered a grin.
'Come on now, what yer got there to buy?' It sounded like to boiy . The shopkeeper had evidently lost patience with them, for she added: 'It's taken yer half the day to choose.'
The sturdy-looking girl offered up a can of Diet Coke while the spotty boy grasped a Twix in his fist. Seraphina wore her hair scraped back over her scalp in sink-estate style, a rubber band holding it together at the back of her neck so that it hung down in a lank ponytail. There was a hardness to her features despite the pudginess of her flesh: her eyes were mean and narrow anyway, but were made even meaner and narrower by the surrounding plumpness, and even the shortness of her nose failed to soften her looks, for the lips below were thin, almost a gash in her face.
It would have been hard to tell they were brother and sister, for the boy had large doleful eyes and, although stocky, he was tall as well, with slouched shoulders and a concave chest that made him appear slightly paunchy. His tufty hair was slick with gel and his mouth hung gormlessly half open. His face and neck were tortured by angry-looking pimples and pustules, but such was his bearing—he somehow walked with an arrogant but hunched swagger—it was almost impossible to feel any sympathy.
Both had on brightly coloured anoraks—hers blue, his red—and both wore heavy boots. The girl looked back at Loren, spite in those narrow eyes, as she collected her change.
'Found a mag you want, honey?' Gabe said to distract his daughter, who had brought Cally over to him.
'Oh, it doesn't matter, Dad. I was only looking.'
Although Cally had saved the day and made her giggle, Loren was still skittish, still intimidated, and he wanted to enfold her in his arms. He realized they all—all except Cally, who was a tough little tiger and too young to mourn the loss of her brother after all this time—had the tendency to over-emote given the slightest provocation these days, although they had different ways of expressing it. Loren would verge on the hysterical at times (or was over-reaction the norm for a girl of her age?), whereas Eve gave in to things too easily, almost as if detached from
Just then, Cally came trotting round a floor shelf clutching a tube of Smarties in one hand (she guessed her mother would refuse to let her have them so, even at that tender age aware that daddies were much easier to manipulate, she was bringing them to Gabe). She came to a stop when she saw the big girl and boy glaring at Loren and heard them call her a silly name. Cally poked her tongue out at them.
'Spazzie,' the big girl called her.
'Bite my shorts,' Cally replied.
Loren put a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. She took her sister's hand and led her away. 'It's not bite my shorts, Cally,' she whispered, leaning close to Cally's ear. 'Bart always says eat my shorts.'
Gabe had witnessed the minor encounter from behind the bookrack, reluctant to interfere: Loren had to learn to stand up for herself. Sure, if the situation had got serious, if the girl and boy had tried physically to bully his daughter, then he would have stepped in, but instead Cally's response had made him wince, then grin. They really had to wean their youngest daughter off The Simpsons .
'What are you two up to back there?' came a stern voice from the other side of the shop. It was the shopkeeper, whose broad upper body was angled over the counter as she stood on tiptoe to see round the magazine racks. 'Is that you acting the maggot, Seraphina Blaney? Come on out and bring yer daft brother Quentin with yer. Yer've spent too long already moochin' around. Are yer buyin' or not?'
Reluctantly, the girl sidled out from behind the magazines, the boy, who must have been about fourteen, slouching after her, and Loren got a good look at them both as they deliberately brushed by her.
'Saddo,' the girl slyly said to Loren as she passed; the acne-cursed youth sneered a grin.
'Come on now, what yer got there to buy?' It sounded like to boiy . The shopkeeper had evidently lost patience with them, for she added: 'It's taken yer half the day to choose.'
The sturdy-looking girl offered up a can of Diet Coke while the spotty boy grasped a Twix in his fist. Seraphina wore her hair scraped back over her scalp in sink-estate style, a rubber band holding it together at the back of her neck so that it hung down in a lank ponytail. There was a hardness to her features despite the pudginess of her flesh: her eyes were mean and narrow anyway, but were made even meaner and narrower by the surrounding plumpness, and even the shortness of her nose failed to soften her looks, for the lips below were thin, almost a gash in her face.
It would have been hard to tell they were brother and sister, for the boy had large doleful eyes and, although stocky, he was tall as well, with slouched shoulders and a concave chest that made him appear slightly paunchy. His tufty hair was slick with gel and his mouth hung gormlessly half open. His face and neck were tortured by angry-looking pimples and pustules, but such was his bearing—he somehow walked with an arrogant but hunched swagger—it was almost impossible to feel any sympathy.
Both had on brightly coloured anoraks—hers blue, his red—and both wore heavy boots. The girl looked back at Loren, spite in those narrow eyes, as she collected her change.
'Found a mag you want, honey?' Gabe said to distract his daughter, who had brought Cally over to him.
'Oh, it doesn't matter, Dad. I was only looking.'
Although Cally had saved the day and made her giggle, Loren was still skittish, still intimidated, and he wanted to enfold her in his arms. He realized they all—all except Cally, who was a tough little tiger and too young to mourn the loss of her brother after all this time—had the tendency to over-emote given the slightest provocation these days, although they had different ways of expressing it. Loren would verge on the hysterical at times (or was over-reaction the norm for a girl of her age?), whereas Eve gave in to things too easily, almost as if detached from
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