God Save the Queen! by Dorothy Cannell Read Free Book Online Page B

sunshine sent like a gift from God to lighten her darkest hour?
    Boris opened the door marked “Private” and went up narrow twisting stairs that were partially lit by a window that was the shape and approximate size of an arrow. It was like climbing out of a well, he thought, and he’d probably smell like a frog for at least a week. Boris felt a flicker of affection for the council flat where he lived with Gran. It mostly smelled like toasted cheese or fish-and-chips.
    By the time he reached the top of the stairs and found himself on a narrow landing, facing a door, he was convinced Great-Aunt Mabel would burst into tears of joy when she saw him. His only fear was that she would also smother him with sloppy kisses or, even worse, want to hold him on her lap. But, he reasoned philosophically as he lifted his hand to tap on the door, if he ended up with ten pounds in his pocket it wouldn’t be so bad.
    Boris knocked a second time. Not getting any answer, he turned the heavy iron handle with both hands and pushed open the door. There were two ladies in the funny round room. One was lying on a sofa and the other one, who looked a lot like the Queen Mother, was bending over her, talking in a singing sort of voice.
    “It’s Cousin Sophie, Mabel ...”
    She hadn’t noticed Boris and he thought it only polite to interrupt. “Hello,” he said, his voice coming out louder than he meant it to, “I’ve come to visit you in your hour of need, Great-Aunt Mabel. I am your sister Edna’s only grandson, Boris, and this moment my heart is overflowing with—
    He never did get to say with what, because his Great-Aunt Mabel sat bolt upright on the sofa and emitted a piercing scream before sending a pillow sailing toward his head.
    “Get out, you little monster,” she yelled, “before I have you taken outside and hung, drawn and quartered!”
    “But, Auntie, I love you  .  .  .”
    A second pillow hit him squarely in the chest and, taking the hint, Boris headed out the door, where he came upon a very thin elderly man wheeling an empty tea trolley toward him.
    “Afternoon, young master,” said Mr. Tipp.
    Rarely, in all his eleven years, had Boris felt more embarrassed. But he managed to display a loftiness worthy of the New Church School uniform.
    “Someone should lock her Ladyship up in the garderobe,” he said, before turning and running full tilt back down the stairs. Luckily, or so he thought at the time, he didn’t collide with Mr. Ferncliffe who one minute before had abandoned his search for his missing pupil, and gone to drown his sorrows in a cup of tea.
     

Chapter Five
     
    “Dear Mabel.” Cousin Sophie’s crooning voice came at Lady Gossinger through a thick fog. “I think you have been quite astonishingly brave. Lie back on the sofa, dear, and give your poor head a rest, while I pour you a nice cup of lukewarm tea.”
    “Is he gone?” Her Ladyship cracked open an eye before remembering that her life was over.
    “You mean that horrid little boy, dear?”
    “Edna’s grandson? He was really here? Lord help me, I hoped he was just a nightmare. But I was actually talking about Henry. Flown the coop, has he? Or is the old bean cowering behind that half-open door, waiting for me to call out that I appreciate no end his letting me in on his plans to change his will and leave Gossinger Hall to Hutchins?” The wronged wife held up her hand in a futile attempt to stop the tower room spinning at a crazily lopsided angle that threatened to topple her off the sofa into an undignified heap.
    “Henry became very flustered, as well he ought, Mabel.” Cousin Sophie tried not to sound as if she were thoroughly enjoying the situation, but her hands trembled with excitement as she filled a cup from the silver teapot. “He said something about women liking to be alone at times such as this and hurried from the room as if all the devils in hell were after him when you started to go into convulsions. As any reasonable