Read Online Tim by Colleen McCullough - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Colleen McCullough
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oh, yes!"
"Then why don't you change into your swimming trunks while I finish up here, then we'll go down onto the beach. All right?"
He disappeared immediately, returning so quickly that she had to make him wait while she tidied up the last few odds and ends around the kitchen. Carrying two canvas deck chairs, an umbrella, towels, and various other bits of beach paraphernalia, they staggered laden down to the sand.
She had settled herself into her deck chair and opened her book before she realized that he was still standing looking at her, puzzled and apparently distressed.
She closed her book. "What's the matter, Tim? What is it?"
He fluttered his hands helplessly. "I thought you said we were going swimming!"
"Not we, Tim," she corrected gently. "I want you to swim to your heart's content, but I never go into the water myself."
He kneeled beside her chair and put both his hands on her arm, very upset. "But then it isn't the same, Mary! I don't want to go swimming all by myself!" Tears sparkled on his long fair lashes, like water beading on crystal. "Please, oh please don't make me go in all by myself!"
She reached out to touch him, then drew her hand away quickly. "But I don't have a swimsuit with me, Tim! I couldn't go in even if I wanted to."
He shook his head back and forth, growing more and more agitated. "I don't think you like being with me, I don't think you like me! You're always dressed up as if you're going into town, you never wear shorts or slacks or no stockings the way Mum does!"
"Oh, Tim, what am I going to do with you? Just because I'm always dressed up doesn't mean I don't like being with you! I 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 gray 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 humor.
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
"Then why don't you change into your swimming trunks while I finish up here, then we'll go down onto the beach. All right?"
He disappeared immediately, returning so quickly that she had to make him wait while she tidied up the last few odds and ends around the kitchen. Carrying two canvas deck chairs, an umbrella, towels, and various other bits of beach paraphernalia, they staggered laden down to the sand.
She had settled herself into her deck chair and opened her book before she realized that he was still standing looking at her, puzzled and apparently distressed.
She closed her book. "What's the matter, Tim? What is it?"
He fluttered his hands helplessly. "I thought you said we were going swimming!"
"Not we, Tim," she corrected gently. "I want you to swim to your heart's content, but I never go into the water myself."
He kneeled beside her chair and put both his hands on her arm, very upset. "But then it isn't the same, Mary! I don't want to go swimming all by myself!" Tears sparkled on his long fair lashes, like water beading on crystal. "Please, oh please don't make me go in all by myself!"
She reached out to touch him, then drew her hand away quickly. "But I don't have a swimsuit with me, Tim! I couldn't go in even if I wanted to."
He shook his head back and forth, growing more and more agitated. "I don't think you like being with me, I don't think you like me! You're always dressed up as if you're going into town, you never wear shorts or slacks or no stockings the way Mum does!"
"Oh, Tim, what am I going to do with you? Just because I'm always dressed up doesn't mean I don't like being with you! I 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 gray 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 humor.
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
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