Crooked Wreath by Christianna Brand Read Free Book Online

behooved him the more to guard against Peta losing her inheritance, because he so desperately wanted her to. Down by the lodge the Ophelias filled the air with their heavy scent; he passed through the gates, and went off alone, along the road.

4
    T HE BABY was exceedingly busy that afternoon, helping Brough to mow the lawn. Clad in a pair of bright blue dungarees, with a string of large coloured beads about her neck, she staggered importantly to and fro, putting out a starfish hand to save herself from tipping forward and now and again sitting down abruptly among the daisies. Brough’s grandchild, a tiresome little girl of eight, known as Rosy-Posy, followed her about with an air of patronage and every time she fell down, hauled her bossily to her feet again. The family watched them, idling in deck chairs on the front terrace, sniffing luxuriously at the scent of the new-cut grass, or bobbed in and out of the swimming pool, lying flat on the sun-baked front terrace to dry. Sir Richard remained sitting at the little iron table, ostentatiously working out the terms of his new will and at intervals sending one or other of his grandchildren to the telephone in the hall, with messages to Stephen Garde. “I must say, Grandfather, I think it’s in the worst of taste,” protested Peta, “keeping us running about so busily, disinheriting ourselves.”
    Peta, his pet, his favourite, with her pretty face and her pretty hair and her pretty, engaging little ways, who could behave so very unprettily when she chose! His eyes filled with tears of stubborn self-pity. “I looked to you, Peta, to keep up Swanswater when I was dead and gone …”
    â€œWell, anyway , I think, darling, that Bella ought to have it, I always have. I mean, it’s all wrong to turn her out just because you’re dead. If you see what I mean,” added Peta, apologetically.
    â€œSwanswater is a memorial to your Grandmama Serafita,” said Sir Richard, firmly. “It is not suitable that my second wife should be the one to keep it up.” Serafita would not have cared two straws; she had laughed at his infidelities and would have laughed at his present nostalgic sentimentalities, and he knew it; but he had built up this fable of his devotion to her, and in his old age it was very dear to him. “It’s all your fault, Peta, you’re not worthy, not worthy to have this place. Edward, go and tell Stephen that I shall be at the lodge tonight, tell him to bring the draft will there when he’s got it done.”
    â€œOh, Lord! ” grumbled Edward, rising for the third time and shambling off crossly to the telephone.
    Bella came up the broad steps to the terrace, with Antonia in her arms. She was very pretty still, for all her sixty years, but the rosy glow of the baby robbed her skin of its bloom and took the light from her hair. “Oh, Richard–you’re not going to sign that nasty thing tonight!”
    â€œGo away, Bella,” said Sir Richard. He sent Peta after Edward. “Tell him I shall be at the lodge from now onwards; I’m fed up with the lot of you. I shall have my supper down there.”
    â€œOh, Richard, you’re not going to sleep down there tonight!”
    â€œLeave me alone, Bella,” said Sir Richard irritably. “Don’t go on and on saying, ‘Oh, Richard, you’re not …’”
    â€œWell, but, Richard, your heart, dear! You really ought not to be alone.”
    â€œGet away, get away,” said Sir Richard flapping the air as though she were a fly.
    â€œBut, Richard–well, if you’re determined, dear, let one of us stay there with you. Suppose, my dear, now seriously, that you had an attack!”
    â€œI’ll tell you what, Bella, if you want me to have a heart attack, you’re doing the very best way about bringing it on! I’ll hear no more about it. Leave me alone!”
    Bella appealed to Philip. “Do, as