Paws for Alarm by Marian Babson Read Free Book Online Page B

bad policy at any time to encourage Arnold in his do-it-yourselfing and I certainly wasn’t going to have him start any of that over here. ‘Come and have supper now.’

Six
    We had a great day in London. It wasn’t actually raining – no more than a heavy mist. The corner of the morning newspaper which gave temperatures around the world listed Boston at 95°F, so New Hampshire would be just about the same. I hoped poor Rosemary wasn’t melting away in the unaccustomed heat. I felt as perky as a daisy in spring in the damp English summer.
    We spent the morning in the British Museum; Arnold in the Reading Room, while I went round the exhibits with the kids. We met up again for lunch at a little Italian restaurant nearby.
    After that, Arnold put us into a taxi for the Tower of London and returned to the Reading Room with the air of a man who has done his duty by his loved ones. We’d collect him when the Reading Room closed, have supper and catch a late train, after the rush hour was over. That was the plan.
    I took one look at the queue for admittance stretching around the Tower walls and we didn’t even get out of the taxi. ‘Let’s try Madame Tussaud’s,’ I suggested. The kids didn’t mind and the driver was quite cheerful and happy about the idea. When I saw the final total we had clocked up on his meter, I could understand why.
    There was a queue waiting to get into Madame Tussaud’s, too, but it was a more reasonable length. Besides, it was moving. In the time I had paid off the taxi, it had shuffled forward a good two feet.
    â€˜Hurry up, Mom!’ Donald grabbed the hand I was holding out for the change the driver was laboriously counting into it and pulled me towards the end of the queue. Donna dashed ahead of us and staked our claim.
    Just in time. My incipient protest died as I saw several dozen children pushing out of a school bus and charging for the end of the queue. It was worth forfeiting my change to get ahead of that mob.
    â€˜Good thinking, kids,’ I gasped, crowding in beside Donna. It gave me a real feeling of accomplishment to look back at the teeming hordes shoving in behind us while a couple of hapless teachers shouted instructions at them.
    â€˜We’re moving already!’ Donna nudged me forward. ‘We’ll be inside in no time. This is a lot better than the old Tower of London.’
    â€˜I think so, too.’ There were showcases – more like peepshow cases — embedded in the outer wall, giving glimpses of the delights waiting inside. I gazed bemusedly at a hologram of a skull that turned into a fully-fleshed face as you moved along, then realized the twins were too short to extract full value from it and had to lift them up in turn so that they could view it properly.
    â€˜Wow!’ Donald said. ‘This is swell, Mom. Why didn’t we come here first? We’d be inside by now.’
    â€˜We were blinded by history,’ I admitted. ‘But so was everybody else or we’d be inside the Tower. Don’t worry, we’ll get there another day.’
    By that time, we were turning into the entrance and could see the ticket booth ahead. The line moved forward slowly, punctuated by ripples of amusement. I was fumbling in my bag for my wallet and didn’t notice the cause. We moved forward again and I was at the ticket window.
    â€˜One adult and two children, please,’ I said, pushing my money across the counter.
    â€˜Not her, Mom!’ Donald poked me in the ribs, then turned to glare fiercely at the schoolchildren behind us who had erupted into laughter.
    â€˜Oh, sorry –’ I apologized automatically before realizing that I had compounded my idiocy by apologizing to a wax model. It was very lifelike.
    â€˜Oh, Mom, you’re funny !’ Donna collapsed in giggles against me. I bought our tickets from an unsmiling clerk for whom the joke had obviously worn thin to the