The Fancy by Monica Dickens Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Monica Dickens
on getting home. Time enough later on to try and sort out his confused thoughts into a clear picture of the job.
At the cross-roads, the church clock showed that he was five minutes earlier than usual. David Lipmann, coming out of the side door of the shop in a blue suit and a white polo sweater, grinned at the earnest, hurrying figure. People missed an awful lot by not relaxing. He passed a hand over his black hair which was brushed back without a parting, hitched up his belt and sauntered across the road towards Collis Park High Street.
“David!” yelled Mrs. Lipmann from the shop door, “Where are you going?” She was a finely built woman with muscled arms and a strong face under hair that was gathered up all round her head into a knob on top, like a brioche.
“To Mr. Hillary’s to get some books!” called David without stopping.
“You going after a girl, I’m going to tell your father!” screamed Mrs. Lipmann. A customer came out of the shop behind her and stood wagging her head approvingly. David shouted something unintelligible.
“You come home late and you’ll find the door locked!” yelled his mothern’t.”an along, who would have sat up all night to let him in if necessary.
Edward heard the shouting still going on behind him as he turned in at his gate. He always thought the Lipmanns added something continental to this corner of Collis Park. It reminded him of that woman at Wenduyne who used to scream out of her top window when the vegetable man came round. Connie had said it made her sick to see the two big dogs drawing the cart, but they had seemed quite happy with their plumy tails always waving. But Connie suspected all animals of suffering. When a car had run over Bob’s paw, she had taken him straight to the Vet’s to have him put out of his miserywithout waiting until Edward came home. They had never had another dog ; Connie was dead set against it.
Edward went quickly through the hall to the kitchen and out into the garden. Connie must be upstairs. His rabbits connected him with food and scrabbled at their netting, but he went straight to Queenie’s hutch and squatted down a few feet away so as not to disturb her. She was lying in a corner, with her ears crushed along her shoulders, staring into space. In the other corner, the hay of her bed was mounded. Edward peered at the mound. Was it his imagination or—yes, the mound was moving! Straining his eyes, he thought he saw a little rat-like body but it was impossible to see how many babies there were ; there was just that stirring, living pile of hay.
“Good old Queenie,” he whispered exultantly and got up quietly to get her some food.
Connie was in the kitchen, cutting yesterday’s cold potatoes into a pan of fat on the stove. “Some people,” she said, “might take offence at their husband saying good evening to the rabbits before his wife. Don’t think I mind, though. I’m used to it, I’m sure.”
“Connie,” Edward’s deep-set eyes were shining, “Queenie’s had her litter—you know, the ones I told you about, by that champion at Ashford.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t looked.”
“What’ll you do with them,” asked Connie, going past him to the cupboard, “sell them?”
“I’m going to keep the best for breeding. I might sell one or two for fur when they’re mature. I shan’t sell any of this lot for flesh, though. I’m hoping they’re all too good for that.”
“Why don’t you find out how many there are? Some of them might be dead.”
“I mustn’t disturb her yet. They don’t like you touching the babies at first. They eat them sometimes if you do.”
“Well, would you believe it?” said Connie, taking the salt and pepper to the stove and seasoning the potatoes. “How disgusting. That just shows you how awful animals are.”
Edward was washing at the sink. He felt very happy. “Funny,” he laughed, gasping through the cool water as he splashed his face,
At the cross-roads, the church clock showed that he was five minutes earlier than usual. David Lipmann, coming out of the side door of the shop in a blue suit and a white polo sweater, grinned at the earnest, hurrying figure. People missed an awful lot by not relaxing. He passed a hand over his black hair which was brushed back without a parting, hitched up his belt and sauntered across the road towards Collis Park High Street.
“David!” yelled Mrs. Lipmann from the shop door, “Where are you going?” She was a finely built woman with muscled arms and a strong face under hair that was gathered up all round her head into a knob on top, like a brioche.
“To Mr. Hillary’s to get some books!” called David without stopping.
“You going after a girl, I’m going to tell your father!” screamed Mrs. Lipmann. A customer came out of the shop behind her and stood wagging her head approvingly. David shouted something unintelligible.
“You come home late and you’ll find the door locked!” yelled his mothern’t.”an along, who would have sat up all night to let him in if necessary.
Edward heard the shouting still going on behind him as he turned in at his gate. He always thought the Lipmanns added something continental to this corner of Collis Park. It reminded him of that woman at Wenduyne who used to scream out of her top window when the vegetable man came round. Connie had said it made her sick to see the two big dogs drawing the cart, but they had seemed quite happy with their plumy tails always waving. But Connie suspected all animals of suffering. When a car had run over Bob’s paw, she had taken him straight to the Vet’s to have him put out of his miserywithout waiting until Edward came home. They had never had another dog ; Connie was dead set against it.
Edward went quickly through the hall to the kitchen and out into the garden. Connie must be upstairs. His rabbits connected him with food and scrabbled at their netting, but he went straight to Queenie’s hutch and squatted down a few feet away so as not to disturb her. She was lying in a corner, with her ears crushed along her shoulders, staring into space. In the other corner, the hay of her bed was mounded. Edward peered at the mound. Was it his imagination or—yes, the mound was moving! Straining his eyes, he thought he saw a little rat-like body but it was impossible to see how many babies there were ; there was just that stirring, living pile of hay.
“Good old Queenie,” he whispered exultantly and got up quietly to get her some food.
Connie was in the kitchen, cutting yesterday’s cold potatoes into a pan of fat on the stove. “Some people,” she said, “might take offence at their husband saying good evening to the rabbits before his wife. Don’t think I mind, though. I’m used to it, I’m sure.”
“Connie,” Edward’s deep-set eyes were shining, “Queenie’s had her litter—you know, the ones I told you about, by that champion at Ashford.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t looked.”
“What’ll you do with them,” asked Connie, going past him to the cupboard, “sell them?”
“I’m going to keep the best for breeding. I might sell one or two for fur when they’re mature. I shan’t sell any of this lot for flesh, though. I’m hoping they’re all too good for that.”
“Why don’t you find out how many there are? Some of them might be dead.”
“I mustn’t disturb her yet. They don’t like you touching the babies at first. They eat them sometimes if you do.”
“Well, would you believe it?” said Connie, taking the salt and pepper to the stove and seasoning the potatoes. “How disgusting. That just shows you how awful animals are.”
Edward was washing at the sink. He felt very happy. “Funny,” he laughed, gasping through the cool water as he splashed his face,