Read Online The Very Thought of You by Rosie Alison - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosie Alison
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wet mattress. Then she rolled her sheet up into a ball and started to creep downstairs.
First down the top stairs, where every step seemed to creak. Then she decided to walk down the forbidden mahogany staircase, to avoid the long corridor past the matron’s room. Down she went, clinging to the banister so as not to slip on the polished wooden steps.
She worked her way through the dark, cold hall, which glowed with lunar light off the marble floor. Now she had to pass Mr and Mrs Ashton’s rooms, and get down the steps to the basement. She heard an owl hooting outside, and her own feet scuffing the stone floor as she reached up, at last, for the laundry-room key.
She opened the door and felt her way round the dark room, not daring to turn on a light. She found the drawers where the sheets were held, and pulled one out. She couldn’t see in the dark if it was exactly right – it seemed to be a thicker sheet. So she felt for another. That was the one she would take.
She folded up her wet sheet as neatly as she could, and stuffed it into the back of the nearest drawer. Then, with herheart drumming, she relocked the door and crept upstairs the way she had come.
The Marble Hall was already showing the first glimmer of light as she hurried back to her dormitory. Another child stirred as she tiptoed towards her bed, but nobody woke up. She folded her blue, rough towel, and placed it over the wet patch on the mattress. Then she laid the new sheet over the top, with the bedclothes too, and fell into bed, exhausted, though not forgetting to remove her wet nightdress.
The next morning she dressed quickly and straightened out her bed. At breakfast, there was no fierce summons from Miss Harrison.
Twice more, she awoke suddenly in the night with icy wet sheets against her skin. Twice more, she ventured down to the locked laundry room successfully. But on her third trip she encountered something which she would never forget.
She was safely down the mahogany stairs, and through the Marble Hall, and was about to head down the final flight of stairs to the laundry room. Her journey took her past the great panelled door which opened onto the Ashtons’ suite of rooms. Occasionally, the children saw the door open in the daytime: they could glimpse a crimson sitting room, and a door beyond leading to the Ashtons’ bedroom.
As she left the Marble Hall behind her, she was shocked to see that the Ashtons’ door was open and their light was still on. She heard voices, and dashed to hide behind a Chinese lacquered dresser in the corridor’s corner. Cowering there, she waited with dread to hear the clack-clack of Mrs Ashton’s heels walking towards her. Blood pounded in her ears as she crouched there, still clutching the damp sheet.
No footsteps came near her, but there were sounds, and Anna strained to listen. She could hear an agitated voice – Mrs Ashton, she thought – from the next room. It mustbe the middle of the night. Didn’t they know their door was open?
After a few minutes Anna crept out from her position, and moved quietly, slowly, towards the stairs. But as she did so, her eye was drawn through the open door to a large oval mirror hanging on the crimson wall. She saw something move and looked again.
It was Mrs Ashton, naked.
Sheer shock branded the sight on her mind. She caught only glimpses, as Mrs Ashton moved in and out of vision through the bedroom reflected in the mirror. But it was a searing vision of a woman’s body. Anna had never seen her mother naked, and the sight of Mrs Ashton’s mature breasts and dark bush of hair was astonishing to her. She was repelled and entranced. Is that what would happen to her own skimpy body one day? She stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed to the mirror, listening.
Though she could only catch snatches of what was being said, she recognized a desperation which frightened her. Mrs Ashton was swearing and choking on foul words at her husband. Violent language she had
First down the top stairs, where every step seemed to creak. Then she decided to walk down the forbidden mahogany staircase, to avoid the long corridor past the matron’s room. Down she went, clinging to the banister so as not to slip on the polished wooden steps.
She worked her way through the dark, cold hall, which glowed with lunar light off the marble floor. Now she had to pass Mr and Mrs Ashton’s rooms, and get down the steps to the basement. She heard an owl hooting outside, and her own feet scuffing the stone floor as she reached up, at last, for the laundry-room key.
She opened the door and felt her way round the dark room, not daring to turn on a light. She found the drawers where the sheets were held, and pulled one out. She couldn’t see in the dark if it was exactly right – it seemed to be a thicker sheet. So she felt for another. That was the one she would take.
She folded up her wet sheet as neatly as she could, and stuffed it into the back of the nearest drawer. Then, with herheart drumming, she relocked the door and crept upstairs the way she had come.
The Marble Hall was already showing the first glimmer of light as she hurried back to her dormitory. Another child stirred as she tiptoed towards her bed, but nobody woke up. She folded her blue, rough towel, and placed it over the wet patch on the mattress. Then she laid the new sheet over the top, with the bedclothes too, and fell into bed, exhausted, though not forgetting to remove her wet nightdress.
The next morning she dressed quickly and straightened out her bed. At breakfast, there was no fierce summons from Miss Harrison.
Twice more, she awoke suddenly in the night with icy wet sheets against her skin. Twice more, she ventured down to the locked laundry room successfully. But on her third trip she encountered something which she would never forget.
She was safely down the mahogany stairs, and through the Marble Hall, and was about to head down the final flight of stairs to the laundry room. Her journey took her past the great panelled door which opened onto the Ashtons’ suite of rooms. Occasionally, the children saw the door open in the daytime: they could glimpse a crimson sitting room, and a door beyond leading to the Ashtons’ bedroom.
As she left the Marble Hall behind her, she was shocked to see that the Ashtons’ door was open and their light was still on. She heard voices, and dashed to hide behind a Chinese lacquered dresser in the corridor’s corner. Cowering there, she waited with dread to hear the clack-clack of Mrs Ashton’s heels walking towards her. Blood pounded in her ears as she crouched there, still clutching the damp sheet.
No footsteps came near her, but there were sounds, and Anna strained to listen. She could hear an agitated voice – Mrs Ashton, she thought – from the next room. It mustbe the middle of the night. Didn’t they know their door was open?
After a few minutes Anna crept out from her position, and moved quietly, slowly, towards the stairs. But as she did so, her eye was drawn through the open door to a large oval mirror hanging on the crimson wall. She saw something move and looked again.
It was Mrs Ashton, naked.
Sheer shock branded the sight on her mind. She caught only glimpses, as Mrs Ashton moved in and out of vision through the bedroom reflected in the mirror. But it was a searing vision of a woman’s body. Anna had never seen her mother naked, and the sight of Mrs Ashton’s mature breasts and dark bush of hair was astonishing to her. She was repelled and entranced. Is that what would happen to her own skimpy body one day? She stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed to the mirror, listening.
Though she could only catch snatches of what was being said, she recognized a desperation which frightened her. Mrs Ashton was swearing and choking on foul words at her husband. Violent language she had
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