Looking at the Moon by Kit Pearson Read Free Book Online

her with astonishment.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” said Clare coldly.
    â€œI mean, I think Andrew should join up now. He’s probably just trying to avoid it by going to university. I think he’s a coward.”
    â€œHe’s not!” Clare flicked some of her soapy water at Norah. “You have no right to say that about one of our relatives!”
    Resisting the urge to dump her whole pail of dirty water over Clare, Norah bent her head down and resumed scrubbing. “I can say what I want,” she muttered. “He’s not my relative. You all treat Andrew as if he was royalty or something.”
    â€œWhy—you—” But then Clare spotted the sail and ran down the steps.
    â€œYou haven’t finished your laundry!” Janet called after her. “Now I’ll have to do it for her,” she grumbled.
    Norah could have cried with frustration at being forced into a stupid confrontation with Clare. But she prided herself on never crying; she had done too much of it in her first few months in Canada.
    Why had she said that about Andrew? The words had rushed out before she’d known if she meant them.
    â€œYou’re wrong about Andrew,” mumbled Janet through a mouthful of clothes-pins. “Why did you say such a mean thing? He hasn’t done anything to you. And he’s so nice!”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Norah miserably. “I just—don’t— like him!” Then she ran away too, leaving Janet to hang up all the clothes by herself.
    N ORAH HEADED TOWARDS HER ROCK, but on the way she almost collided with Flo.
    â€œI was just looking for you, Norah,” said the older girl. “Andrew and I picked up the mail. Here’s a letter from England for you!”
    Norah clutched the letter as she ran up to her lookout. As always, she took a steadying breath before daring to open it. Bad news usually comes in a telegram, not in a letter, she reminded herself. The envelope was a mess; it had been ripped open and resealed by the censor, and the layers of labels showed how many times it had been used. She squinted in the glaring sun and read.
    Dear Norah and Gavin,
    Congratulations to both of you on your excellent marks in school! Dad and I are so proud of you. We can’t believe you are old enough to be going into “grade four” and “grade eight” this fall. When you are back in England you’ll find it strange to say “form” instead of grade.
    I must tell you all about Muriel’s wedding. Of course we couldn’t do anything fancy, but we had a very good time all the same. Muriel and Barry were only able to get a few days’ leave, but Barry’s mother came all the way from Devon and Tibby managed to get down from Reading for the day to be bridesmaid. After the church ceremony we had a small celebration at the house for just the family. I saved my sugar rations for weeks and the hens have been laying well, so I was able to make a small cake. You never would have guessed I used marge instead of butter. Of course I couldn’t ice it, but Tibby put a bunch of sweet peas on top and they looked lovely. Grandad somehow managed to get a bottle of wine and we all drank a toast to the two of you as well as to the bride and groom. Muriel looked beautiful in her pink suit. She cut it out of that old coat of mine. Barry was very handsome in his uniform. He’s such a nice boy, I’m sure you’ll like him. Muriel promises to send you a snap of him soon.
    After our little party we all went off to the dance in the village hall. A lot of American GIs were there and they had everyone doing the jitterbug! Even Dad and I tried it but it wore us out. Grandad wanted to try but I wouldn’t let him. As usual he forgets his age.
    Yesterday, while I was waiting in the fish queue, I stood next to Mrs. Brown. She said she’s having a hard time keeping Joey away from the Americans when they come into the