Read Online The Village by the Sea by Paula Fox - Free Book Online

furrowed fields. “Potato farms,” Uncle Crispin said, glancing back at Emma. At the edge of the fields, as though dropped in clumps from the sky, stood empty-looking new houses with large, shadeless windows. There was a pearly glow at the horizon as though the sea sent its own light up into the sky. Every few miles, ramps led off the road to shopping malls filled with cars.
    â€œStop!” Aunt Bea shrieked. “I want to go in there!”
    There, Emma saw, was a tumbled-down little farmhouse at the edge of a graveled apron with a sign over the door that read: Nice Things.
    â€œYou won’t be long, will you?” asked Uncle Crispin as he parked.
    â€œOne minute,” Aunt Bea said. “Perhaps two.” She scrambled out of the car, and picking up her long black cotton skirt, ran to the door and disappeared inside. It was the first time Emma had seen her move fast.
    â€œIt’s the kind of thrift shop she likes,” Uncle Crispin explained. “She doesn’t get out of the house often. But I’ll fetch her in a few moments.” He sounded apologetic.
    Emma sank back in the seat. It was so hot in the back of the car; she felt sleepy and jumpy at the same time. Since the phone call from her mother, her worry about her father had lessened. But she had to think about the time ahead until she could go home. She longed to be by herself.
    â€œShe has lucky hands,” Uncle Crispin was saying. “She always manages to find lovely things in piles of absolute junk.”
    How could Uncle Crispin think Aunt Bea’s hands were lucky? Emma made no comment. They sat for what seemed an hour without speaking. Another car drove onto the gravel. An elderly woman got out of it and walked to the thrift shop. The younger woman in the car held a laughing baby, lifting it up so its round head nearly touched the car roof, and then bringing it back to her lap. Aunt Bea appeared at last carrying two stuffed pillowcases, her expression triumphant. She opened the back door. “Move over,” she ordered Emma roughly as she heaved the cases onto the back seat.
    â€œYou found some nice things in Nice Things ?” asked Uncle Crispin.
    â€œTons!” she said. “Three perfectly good cotton bathrobes and real cotton sheets for a dollar each. Just tons! Look!” She pulled out a sheet on which Emma saw a pale gray smudge as though the person who had once used it had left a part of his shadow behind. “Just wonderful!” Aunt Bea congratulated herself.
    The baby let out a shriek of laughter.
    Aunt Bea was settling herself into her seat. She glanced over at the other car. She started to giggle. “Look at that baby! Did you ever see anything so wizened? It looks a hundred years old!”
    â€œIt’s a perfectly nice baby,” Uncle Crispin said. “Really, Bea. How can you make fun—”
    â€œOh, Crispin, never mind! I have to go home. I’ve got a pain in my side. I shouldn’t have carried that load of stuff. You might have helped me!”
    â€œBea, don’t do this,” he said.
    â€œI’m not doing anything! I really don’t feel well. I’ll tell you what I will do though. We’ll stop at the market—I’ll pick up some food and I’ll make us a divine little supper.”
    Uncle Crispin gripped the steering wheel as though he were drowning and it was a life saver.
    â€œPlease, Crispin,” Aunt Bea said. “You know how I hate long drives. You knew that all along. You shouldn’t have insisted that I come. Am I right?”
    Uncle Crispin sighed. Aunt Bea turned around in her seat to gaze at the pillowcases. She smiled vaguely. Without removing her gaze from her purchases, she said, “Emma, you and Crispin simply must go to Montauk some other time. You’ll love the old lighthouse.”
    It occurred to Emma at that moment that half the time, Aunt Bea didn’t know what she was saying.
    â€œYou