The Village by the Sea by Paula Fox Read Free Book Online

Quebec?”
    â€œAlberta,” stated Uncle Crispin, not turning around.
    â€œWhy, yes,” said Aunt Bea. “Imagine naming a child after a Canadian province! She’ll be someone for you to play with. Of course, some children play wonderfully by themselves. I always did. But then I was imaginative.” She gave Emma a sunny smile as though she’d complimented her.
    Two weeks isn’t long enough to get used to such a person, Emma thought.
    â€œI think I’ll go to bed now,” Emma said.
    â€œBut the movie isn’t nearly over—don’t you want to watch it with me?” Aunt Bea asked her plaintively.
    â€œI’m pretty tired,” Emma said. She was never too tired at home to stay up on those special occasions when Daddy would say, Oh, let her stay up just this time, even when she could hardly keep her eyes open.
    â€œTired!” exclaimed Aunt Bea. “A young girl like you! How truly boring!” She turned from Emma and leaned forward intently, her eyes on the television screen.
    â€œOf course you must be tired, Emma,” Uncle Crispin said. His voice was gentle and light again, not the way it had been in the kitchen when he questioned her about the deer. Emma looked at her aunt. “Good night,” she said softly. There was no reply.
    At the foot of the stairs, Uncle Crispin asked, “Do you think you have enough blankets? It can be quite chilly even at this time of year.”
    â€œI don’t need any more,” Emma answered, wanting only to be alone in her room.
    â€œGood night, my dear,” he said.
    As soon as Emma closed her door, she turned on the small lamp on the bedside table and went quickly to the calendar she had drawn. She took a red crayon and drew a thick X in the first box. The first day was over.
    She woke up and for a moment had no idea of where she was. The full yellow moon looked pasted to the pane like a little kid’s drawing on a school window. She heard voices. For a while she lay there listening to the distant sounds of them. They grew louder. Emma got up and opened her door a crack.
    â€œI didn’t,” Aunt Bea was saying over and over again.
    â€œWhere did you hide the brandy bottle?” Uncle Crispin cried. “Where did you hide it, Bea! Don’t you think I know where that plastic deer comes from? Didn’t I find those deer all over the house where you used to drop them on the floor after you’d yanked them from the bottles?”
    â€œIt’s an old one.” Aunt Bea’s voice rose to a wail. “I swear it. You know I’ve stopped drinking, Crispin.”
    â€œHave you, Bea? Have you? I want to believe it.”
    â€œYou know how I save everything,” her aunt went on in a calmer way. “You know I’ve stopped all that.”
    There was a long pause. Then Uncle Crispin said, “I do want to believe that. But you act as if you’re still drinking. As if in your mind—all right, then, now hush.”
    â€œIf you don’t believe me, who will?” Aunt Bea asked sadly.
    Their voices dropped to a murmur. Then there was utter silence. Emma crept back into her bed, pulling the cover over her head. “Daddy,” she whispered into the dark.

5
    The Lonely Beach
    â€œI can offer you coffee, plover eggs, and marmalade,” Uncle Crispin said. “I also have in my larder whistling cereals, bacon with nitrates which are not supposed to be good for you, hens’ eggs, and cheese. Perhaps you’d like an orange and an omelet?”
    â€œCould I have a glass of milk and bread and butter?” Emma asked.
    â€œOf course. I don’t really have plover eggs. I was thinking about English breakfasts this morning. They start you off into the day like an overloaded donkey. Which reminds me—” he paused to pour a glass of milk and set it before her on the table—“of the time years ago Bea and I started out on a picnic. Bea and