Crooked Wreath by Christianna Brand Read Free Book Online Page B

airily, wriggling her toes against the comfortable heat of the stone, “and we’ll all come and cadge on her when Grandfather’s dead and gone and sleeps in dull, cold marble, or whatever that quotation is.”
    â€œI have put a clause in my new will preventing Bella from giving substantial financial assistance to any of you,” said Sir Richard, gloomily triumphant.
    â€œOh, darling, how unco-operative of you! Shan’t we even be able to invite ourselves to Swanswater and outstay our welcomes, choking ourselves on the bitter bread of Bella’s charity?”
    â€œYou will if she’ll have you,” said Sir Richard, grimly.
    â€œShe’ll have me! Edward, you’ll be the little prince then, you ’ll see that Bella has me to stay and chokes me with the bitter bread of her charity, won’t you, darling?”
    â€œShe won’t have Ellen,” said Edward, stretching his neck up from his shoulders to look round at Philip. “Philip, she won’t have you and Ellen; she thinks this is all your fault, and Claire’s, of course; whereas it’s really my fault, isn’t it, for telling what Ellen said in the car?” He gave a fearful heave to get himself into a sitting position. “I say, Grandfather, if I apologized, would it do any good?” But this sounded a bit intense so he felt compelled to add: “Or shall I throw a fugue or something?”
    Sir Richard got to his feet and, sweeping together his papers, marched angrily to the front steps. Nobody appearing to notice, he announced loudly that he was now going down to the lodge and would not come up to dinner at the house. Peta opened one blue eye. “Won’t you, darling? You’ll starve.”
    â€œOne of the servants can bring me something down on a tray.”
    â€œThe seventh footman shall see to it,” said Peta. When Bella appeared from the house half an hour later she passed on the message. “I’ve told the Turtle to prepare something,” said Bella. “I’ll take it myself and try and persuade him to give up this fantastic idea of sleeping down there alone. I shall say to him, ‘Now, Rich ard,’ I shall say to him …”
    â€œYes, all right, angel, don’t rehearse the whole thing to us; we know all about it, and anyway, you’ll never get him to budge.”
    â€œHe’s as obstinate as a hog on ice,” said Philip. “It’s the silliest damn thing I ever heard of, but there’s no use my saying anything. Peta, you go down with Bella and try and persuade him; he listens to you–you nearly had him eating out of your hand just now, if you hadn’t been silly and insisted on remaining a pauper, and us with you.”
    The Turtle appeared carrying a large tray laden with the massive silver dishes which had appeared to a little ballet dancer the hallmark of respectability. “Here you are, Mum; though I’m shore if I’d known it was going to be seprit meals I’d never’ve done it not even to oblige!”
    Peta took the tray from Bella. “I’ll carry it, duck. Come on!” Tall and slender, she walked with her willowy grace in the brief green bathing-costume across the lawn at Bella’s side. A few minutes later the telephone rang from the lodge. Peta’s voice said: “Claire? I say, Grandfather’s left his fountain pen on the table and he wants it.”
    â€œHis fountain pen? Which table?” said Claire.
    â€œWell, the little tin table on the terrace, darling; don’t be silly …”
    Ellen appeared from the terrace with a fat green Parker Duofold in her hand. “Is this it?”
    â€œIs it a green pen, Peta?”
    Claire could hear Peta’s voice speaking on the other end of the line. “Yes, Claire, he says it’s his green one. What, darling? Well, don’t tell me while I’m trying to tell her! Claire, he says he wants it to