Read Online Young May Moon by Sheila Newberry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sheila Newberry
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this morning,’ Bobby beamed.
May suddenly recalled the camera in her bag. ‘May I take your picture, Bobby?’ she enquired, producing it.
‘Of course you can, my dear – there won’t be no smell to that! The local photographer took one yesterday, and he says he’s going to print my face on postcards and sell ’em to the tourists! Make sure you get the sign in the picture, eh?’
Others followed suit with their cameras, and Bobby enjoyed his moment of fame.
When they arrived back May exclaimed, ‘Oh, I must get one of Noah now! I want to remember this summer for ever!’
Noah seemed pleased to oblige, but it was difficult to focus on him, with passengers stepping ashore, and others waiting to get on the boat.
‘I probably included some extras,’ May remarked ruefully to Paddy as they crossed the road to the cinema, to glance at the forthcoming attractions advertised on the billboards outside. ‘A camera attracts people who want to be in the picture.’
‘It will add to the atmosphere,’ he observed. ‘Like the cannibals in
The Navigator
!’
The haddock was served with a poached egg on top. With new bread, warm from the oven and spread with pale golden butter, this was indeed a feast.
‘Smile please!’ was repeated often over the next few days. Jenny, rolling an empty milk churn; Percy scything nettles in the paddock; Pomona and Danny peering out from the branches of a tree; Paddy whittling a piece of wood; Brigid hanging out washing and trying tohold down her skirt in the breeze, and Brendan polishing the bonnet of the car. These were all spur of the moment snaps.
Carmen, on the other hand, insisted on elaborate poses. Somehow, Carlos always seemed to be lurking in the background, which was disconcerting, but May could hardly say that to her mother. Toby was grumpy and out of sorts on bank holiday Monday. ‘She’s getting stout – but how can I tell Jenny not to give her titbits?’ May worried. ‘She’s so kind to us all.’
‘Maybe it’s nearing the time for Dog Toby to retire, too, like old Smokey,’ Paddy suggested. ‘I’m still willing to have a go at a wooden Toby, but Mum could probably do a better job sewing a glove puppet for you, to use as a stand-in.’
‘I could handle that – easy!’ Pomona put in quickly.
‘We’ll see how it goes today, eh?’ May said, thinking wistfully: why can’t things go on for ever, in the same old way?
Despite all the gloomy predictions in the press, the general worries about the country’s financial state, the bank holiday crowds appeared as jolly as ever and determined to make the most of their time by the sea, even though it was a cloudy, breezy day. August had not got off to a good start, but when they looked back on it years later, they would recall that 1925 was actually one of the driest on record.
All the deckchairs were taken for the Punch and Judy show. ‘Hold on to your hats, ladies!’ advised the irrepressible Pomona.
‘Is my mum out there?’ May asked, when Paddy peeped in to the booth to see if she was ready to begin the show. He shook his head. She added: ‘Would you take some pictures for us?’ He nodded this time. She passed him the camera.
May wanted a record of this special date, because she accepted that this might be their last summer season for quite a while. She didn’t yet know what the future might hold, but at least she had carried out her father’s last wishes, she thought.
Eleven
P OMONA HAD BEEN bubbling with anticipation for days; preparations were well under way for Miss Gertrude Ederle’s attempt to swim the English Channel. She was pictured in all the newspapers. It made a nice change to see her smiling face rather than the grimmer photographs of protest marches of the unemployed, she thought. She was swimming on most days herself, Danny wisely didn’t try to compete, but borrowed his father’s pocket watch to time the lengths she managed when the pool was not too full of visitors.
On 18
May suddenly recalled the camera in her bag. ‘May I take your picture, Bobby?’ she enquired, producing it.
‘Of course you can, my dear – there won’t be no smell to that! The local photographer took one yesterday, and he says he’s going to print my face on postcards and sell ’em to the tourists! Make sure you get the sign in the picture, eh?’
Others followed suit with their cameras, and Bobby enjoyed his moment of fame.
When they arrived back May exclaimed, ‘Oh, I must get one of Noah now! I want to remember this summer for ever!’
Noah seemed pleased to oblige, but it was difficult to focus on him, with passengers stepping ashore, and others waiting to get on the boat.
‘I probably included some extras,’ May remarked ruefully to Paddy as they crossed the road to the cinema, to glance at the forthcoming attractions advertised on the billboards outside. ‘A camera attracts people who want to be in the picture.’
‘It will add to the atmosphere,’ he observed. ‘Like the cannibals in
The Navigator
!’
The haddock was served with a poached egg on top. With new bread, warm from the oven and spread with pale golden butter, this was indeed a feast.
‘Smile please!’ was repeated often over the next few days. Jenny, rolling an empty milk churn; Percy scything nettles in the paddock; Pomona and Danny peering out from the branches of a tree; Paddy whittling a piece of wood; Brigid hanging out washing and trying tohold down her skirt in the breeze, and Brendan polishing the bonnet of the car. These were all spur of the moment snaps.
Carmen, on the other hand, insisted on elaborate poses. Somehow, Carlos always seemed to be lurking in the background, which was disconcerting, but May could hardly say that to her mother. Toby was grumpy and out of sorts on bank holiday Monday. ‘She’s getting stout – but how can I tell Jenny not to give her titbits?’ May worried. ‘She’s so kind to us all.’
‘Maybe it’s nearing the time for Dog Toby to retire, too, like old Smokey,’ Paddy suggested. ‘I’m still willing to have a go at a wooden Toby, but Mum could probably do a better job sewing a glove puppet for you, to use as a stand-in.’
‘I could handle that – easy!’ Pomona put in quickly.
‘We’ll see how it goes today, eh?’ May said, thinking wistfully: why can’t things go on for ever, in the same old way?
Despite all the gloomy predictions in the press, the general worries about the country’s financial state, the bank holiday crowds appeared as jolly as ever and determined to make the most of their time by the sea, even though it was a cloudy, breezy day. August had not got off to a good start, but when they looked back on it years later, they would recall that 1925 was actually one of the driest on record.
All the deckchairs were taken for the Punch and Judy show. ‘Hold on to your hats, ladies!’ advised the irrepressible Pomona.
‘Is my mum out there?’ May asked, when Paddy peeped in to the booth to see if she was ready to begin the show. He shook his head. She added: ‘Would you take some pictures for us?’ He nodded this time. She passed him the camera.
May wanted a record of this special date, because she accepted that this might be their last summer season for quite a while. She didn’t yet know what the future might hold, but at least she had carried out her father’s last wishes, she thought.
Eleven
P OMONA HAD BEEN bubbling with anticipation for days; preparations were well under way for Miss Gertrude Ederle’s attempt to swim the English Channel. She was pictured in all the newspapers. It made a nice change to see her smiling face rather than the grimmer photographs of protest marches of the unemployed, she thought. She was swimming on most days herself, Danny wisely didn’t try to compete, but borrowed his father’s pocket watch to time the lengths she managed when the pool was not too full of visitors.
On 18
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