Read Online Tim by Colleen McCullough - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colleen McCullough
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don’t feel comfortable unless I’m all dressed up, it’s as simple as that. I just don’t like wearing shorts or slacks or no stockings.’
But he didn’t believe her, and turned his head away. ‘If you were having fun you’d wear the sort of clothes Mum does when she’s having fun,’ he persisted stubbornly.
There was a long silence, incorporating, though Mary didn’t realize it, their first duel of wills. In the end she sighed and put her book down. ‘Well, I’ll go inside and see what I can find, only you must promise me faithfully that you won’t play tricks on me in the water, duck me under or disappear on me. I can’t swim, which means you’ll have to look after me all the time I’m in the water. Do you promise?’
He was all smiles again. ‘I promise, I promise! But don’t be long, Mary, please don’t be long!’
Though it galled her tidy soul to do so, Mary eventually put on a fresh set of her customary white cotton underwear, and over it one of her grey linen button-down-the-front weekend dresses which she hacked into briefer form with a pair of scissors. She cut the skirt off at mid-thigh, ripped the sleeves out and lopped the neck away until her collar bones were exposed. The cutting was naturally neat, but there was no time to turn a hem or put on facings, which irritated her and put her out of humour.
Walking down to the beach she felt horribly naked, with her fish-belly-white legs and arms and the support of girdle and stockings absent. The feeling had little to do with Tim; even when she was totally alone for days, she always put on every layer of clothes.
Tim, an uncritical audience now that he had got his own way, danced up and down gleefully. ‘Oh, that’s much better, Mary! Now we can both go in swimming! Come on, come on!’
Mary waded into the water with shuddering distaste. As fastidious as the most disdainful of cats, it was all she could do to make herself continue wading out deeper, when what she wanted to do was turn tail and run back to her comfortable, dry deck chair. Displaying the important maturity of a very young male placed in sole charge of a treasure, Tim would not let her go out beyond the point where the water reached her waist. He hovered all around her like a sticky little fly, anxious and confused. It was no use; he could sense that she hated it, and she knew she was spoiling his day. So she suppressed a strong shudder of revulsion and dunked herself down to the neck with a gasp of shock at the coldness, and an involuntary laugh.
The laugh was all he was waiting to hear; he began to frolic around her like a porpoise, as at ease and at home in the water as any fish. Forcing herself to smile and slapping the palms of her hands on the surface of the water in what she hoped was a good imitation of someone thoroughly enjoying a dip, Mary blundered about after him.
The water was exquisitely clear and clean, her disarticulated feet wobbled like sickly white blancmange on the sandy bottom whenever she looked down, and the sun rested on the back of her neck like a warm and friendly hand. After a while she began to enjoy the feel of the mildly stinging saltiness; it stimulated and exhilarated, and to submerge to the shoulders in delicious, weightless coolness with the full strength of the sun rendered suddenly impotent was truly marvellous. The vulnerability of her lack of clothes faded, and she began to luxuriate in feeling her body so free of restriction.
She did not lose quite all her good sense, however, and after twenty minutes or so she called Tim to her side. ‘I must go out now, Tim, because I’m not used to the sun. See how white I am, and how brown you are? Well, one of these days I’ll be as brown as you, but I have to do it very slowly, because the sun burns white skins like mine and it could make me very sick. Please don’t think I’m not having fun, because I am, but I really must get into the shade now.’
He accepted this calmly. ‘I know,
But he didn’t believe her, and turned his head away. ‘If you were having fun you’d wear the sort of clothes Mum does when she’s having fun,’ he persisted stubbornly.
There was a long silence, incorporating, though Mary didn’t realize it, their first duel of wills. In the end she sighed and put her book down. ‘Well, I’ll go inside and see what I can find, only you must promise me faithfully that you won’t play tricks on me in the water, duck me under or disappear on me. I can’t swim, which means you’ll have to look after me all the time I’m in the water. Do you promise?’
He was all smiles again. ‘I promise, I promise! But don’t be long, Mary, please don’t be long!’
Though it galled her tidy soul to do so, Mary eventually put on a fresh set of her customary white cotton underwear, and over it one of her grey linen button-down-the-front weekend dresses which she hacked into briefer form with a pair of scissors. She cut the skirt off at mid-thigh, ripped the sleeves out and lopped the neck away until her collar bones were exposed. The cutting was naturally neat, but there was no time to turn a hem or put on facings, which irritated her and put her out of humour.
Walking down to the beach she felt horribly naked, with her fish-belly-white legs and arms and the support of girdle and stockings absent. The feeling had little to do with Tim; even when she was totally alone for days, she always put on every layer of clothes.
Tim, an uncritical audience now that he had got his own way, danced up and down gleefully. ‘Oh, that’s much better, Mary! Now we can both go in swimming! Come on, come on!’
Mary waded into the water with shuddering distaste. As fastidious as the most disdainful of cats, it was all she could do to make herself continue wading out deeper, when what she wanted to do was turn tail and run back to her comfortable, dry deck chair. Displaying the important maturity of a very young male placed in sole charge of a treasure, Tim would not let her go out beyond the point where the water reached her waist. He hovered all around her like a sticky little fly, anxious and confused. It was no use; he could sense that she hated it, and she knew she was spoiling his day. So she suppressed a strong shudder of revulsion and dunked herself down to the neck with a gasp of shock at the coldness, and an involuntary laugh.
The laugh was all he was waiting to hear; he began to frolic around her like a porpoise, as at ease and at home in the water as any fish. Forcing herself to smile and slapping the palms of her hands on the surface of the water in what she hoped was a good imitation of someone thoroughly enjoying a dip, Mary blundered about after him.
The water was exquisitely clear and clean, her disarticulated feet wobbled like sickly white blancmange on the sandy bottom whenever she looked down, and the sun rested on the back of her neck like a warm and friendly hand. After a while she began to enjoy the feel of the mildly stinging saltiness; it stimulated and exhilarated, and to submerge to the shoulders in delicious, weightless coolness with the full strength of the sun rendered suddenly impotent was truly marvellous. The vulnerability of her lack of clothes faded, and she began to luxuriate in feeling her body so free of restriction.
She did not lose quite all her good sense, however, and after twenty minutes or so she called Tim to her side. ‘I must go out now, Tim, because I’m not used to the sun. See how white I am, and how brown you are? Well, one of these days I’ll be as brown as you, but I have to do it very slowly, because the sun burns white skins like mine and it could make me very sick. Please don’t think I’m not having fun, because I am, but I really must get into the shade now.’
He accepted this calmly. ‘I know,
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