Read Online The Twelve Little Cakes by Dominika Dery - Free Book Online Page A

Before long, she had disappeared upstairs and was making a thorough inventory of the house. My father shadowed her nervously and I followed at a distance, trying to imagine this loud and flamboyant woman reading me bedtime stories. Her hair was jet black and curly in the Bohemian style, and it was obvious that she had been very pretty as a girl, but with her colorful suit and accent, she looked and sounded a bit like a parrot. I could hear her chattering excitedly as she tramped through what had been the Nedbals’ apartment, and at which point my father intercepted her and took her to the kitchen for a chat, leaving Mr. Doskar in the living room, helping himself to sandwiches. My mother and sister were standing nearby, watching my father lead Hilda downstairs.
    â€œShe doesn’t want to live with us, does she?” my sister whispered.
    â€œI have no idea what she wants. I didn’t even know she was coming,” my mother whispered back.
    â€œAnd I can’t believe she brought that man with her.”
    â€œNeither can I,” my mother agreed.
    â€œHis name is Mr. Doskar!” I exclaimed. “He’s very old and his hands keep shaking all the time.”
    Mr. Poloraich, who had regained control of the party, made a suave joke that saved Mr. Doskar from embarrassment, and my mother smiled gratefully as she whisked me from the room.
    â€œWhy don’t you go outside and see if Barry would like to eat the leftover chicken?” she said. “There’s a plate in the fridge. Get your father to help you.”
    â€œOkay.” I was always happy to go and see Barry.
    I went down to the kitchen and looked at the fridge. The handle was too high for me to reach, but I was actually more interested in listening to my dad and my grandmother talking in Mr. Kozel’s old apartment. My father was trying to keep his voice down, but my grandmother’s voice became louder and louder, and after a few moments the apartment door crashed open, and she stormed up the stairs with my dad right behind her.
    â€œHow dare you!” my grandmother was shrieking. “Where the sun doesn’t shine, the doctor comes knocking! I catch my death of cold in this apartment! To even suggest that I live in such condition! You should be ashame of yourself, Jarda! Ashame!”
    â€œBut Mum,” my father growled as he followed her upstairs. “We have to reconstruct the house. We’re months away—”
    â€œI hear enough!” Hilda roared as she waved at her fiancé. “Come, Mr. Doskar! We leave!”
    She strode to the front door and made a huge show of putting her boots on. Poor old Mr. Doskar looked up from the couch, where he had been happily nursing a glass of Mr. Poloraich’s scotch, and seemed very confused. He handed the glass to my mother and mumbled his thanks, then he hurried over to the door to help my grandmother into her coat. His hands were shaking very badly, and it took them a long time to leave, but when they did, Hilda made sure that she slammed the door behind them. The mood of the party was definitely ruined, and my dad was quiet and sad for the rest of the day.
    â€œYou know, I’m not really sure that I would like Granny Hilda to be my grandmother,” I confided to my mum as we were doing the dishes. “I would rather have a grandmother like from the book. I would much rather have a grandmother like Auntie Mary.”
    â€œOne of the first things you learn in life is that you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your relatives,” my mother informed me gently. “Once you’ve got them, they stay with you forever.”
    â€œBut that’s not fair,” I complained. “When you’re writing your books, I have no one to play with. Dad’s busy all the time, and you’re both too busy to read me stories.”
    â€œThat’s true,” she agreed. “We have to work very hard now to try and fix