Cinderella Sister by Dilly Court Read Free Book Online Page A

her work, she began to paint.
    As she worked, the river scene that she had sketched the previous day began to glow with colour. She recaptured the golden light of the autumn sunshine glistening on the water, and the reflections of the ships tied up alongside the wharves. She lost track of time. She was no longer sitting in a cramped position in a cold, dark, comfortless room, she was living in the picture she created. She could feel the sun warm on her face and hear the swish of the water as it lapped and sucked atthe stanchions of the wall beneath the dockmaster’s house. In her head she could hear the shouts of the men working the cranes on the wharves, the flapping of sails as vessels left port and the rumble of barrels being rolled over cobblestones.
    She was brought abruptly back to earth by the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside the room, and she held her breath, poised and ready to slide her guilty secret back beneath her bed should anyone come in and catch her indulging in her forbidden art. The danger passed and the pitter-patter of feet faded into the distance. Lily breathed a sigh of relief; it must have been Nell coming from the attic room and going downstairs to join the others in the parlour.
    After another half an hour, when her eyes were sore from peering at her work in the dim light, Lily stretched her cramped muscles and began packing her things away. Soon her sisters would be coming to bed. Nell would be horrified if she discovered how her youngest sister spent her free time. She had made it painfully clear that she considered Lily’s love of art and painting was to be discouraged, and Matt had agreed with her. He had once caught Lily sitting on the wall outside the house with her paints spread out around her and he had reacted angrily, accusing her of idling away her time. But behind his anger Lily had sensed his deep-seated fear that she would take after their mother. She had tried to explain that drawing and painting were as much a part of her as Luke’s poetry was of him, but Matt had simply not understood. She had begged to be allowed to keep her paints, but Nell had taken thebox and locked it in a cupboard and Lily, who had been eleven at the time and still pining for her mother, had cried herself to sleep for many nights. She had continued to plead for the return of her paints, but Nell had been adamant. Look where dabbling with art had led their mother, she had stormed. Ma would still be with them if she had not taken up with that dreadful fellow and Lily would go the same way if she wasn’t careful. It had taken Lily months to find the key to the cupboard, and when she had rescued her paintbox she had vowed to keep it safe from prying eyes. That was her secret, and so far she had managed to keep it from the family.
    A draught of cold air laced with the faint odour of tobacco smoke wafted up from the parlour as Lily made her way downstairs. For a moment she thought she might find her pa seated in his chair by the fireplace, smoking his favourite briar pipe, but when she opened the door it was Matt seated in the saggy old armchair by the fire. With his strong profile and dark hair brushed straight back from a high forehead, he looked so much like their father that it brought a lump to her throat. She slipped into the room unnoticed and went to sit on the window seat. It was draughty here too, but she was used to the cold and she knew that it would get much worse as winter progressed. The old house had been built on a promontory and the cold easterly wind blew from the North Sea, whistling across the Essex marshes and picking up noxious smells from the tanneries, sewage works and manufactories to the east of the River Lea. It was not themost beautiful place in which to live, but Lily loved her home and the river that flowed past it on its way to the sea, carrying ships to far-off lands and bringing them safely home laden with exotic cargoes. The whole area might be dirty and dangerous, but