Time to Say Goodbye by Katie Flynn Read Free Book Online

jump at the chance, but the younger girl had shaken her head firmly. ‘No thank you. I’m quite all right now,’ she had said. She had heaved a deep sigh and rubbed her eyes and Imogen had thought she looked, suddenly, about five years old. ‘I’ll try not to disturb you again, girls. Night night.’
    But that had been two nights ago, and Debby had had no nightmares since. Jill had had a quiet word with Imogen and Rita, explaining that Debby lived with her grandparents because her own mother and father, and her elder brother, had disappeared into Nazi Germany and were presumed dead. ‘So be especially kind to her and don’t try to get her to talk about her life before you met her,’ she had instructed.
    Both girls had agreed to be careful, but after Jill had left them Rita had given a disdainful sniff. ‘I’m very sorry her parents are dead, if they are,’ she had said. ‘If you ask me, she’s just a spoilt baby.’ And then, seeing the look on Imogen’s face, she had come as near an apology as her nature allowed. ‘Was that a nasty thing to say? Well, if so, I didn’t mean it. And now let’s get on with our letters home.’
    Now, however, the three girls had abandoned the small parlour and were back in the kitchen, struggling into their outdoor clothing, shedding their slippers – Auntie’s Christmas present to them all – and pushing their feet into the rubber boots which stood by the back door. Excitement at the thought of the walk up to the farm and even more excitement at the prospect of learning to milk made them hurry, with the result that, as they crossed the yard, Imogen was suddenly aware that her wellingtons were pinching her toes and rubbing her heels in a most unpleasant fashion. She was slightly behind the other three and hurried to catch them up, grabbing Rita’s arm when she did so. ‘Rita, have you got my boots by mistake? My feet are bigger than yours and these feel at least one size too small. I suppose we were in such a hurry to get out that we didn’t look to see whether they were marked with our own initials.’
    She expected Rita to stop and exchange footwear, but instead Rita scowled at her and shook her off. ‘Don’t start another fuss,’ she said crossly. ‘These feel okay to me; if we say anything to Jill she’ll send us back to the Linnet rather than let us change in the snow. Aren’t I glad the old fellers dug a path out right at the beginning of the snow though, ’cos it would be really hard work otherwise.’ Imogen sighed but began to walk once more, trying to speed up, but Jill and Debby were already well ahead, and the boots were so tight that it was all she could do to hobble. The other three disappeared into the milking parlour whilst she was still only just turning into the farmyard.
    Imogen said a bad word beneath her breath but slogged on, thinking rude thoughts about Rita, boots and even Jill, who no doubt was already introducing Rita and Debby to the mysteries of milking. She entered the milking parlour at last and saw her two friends watching with keen interest as Jill swished the milk into the bucket, whilst further up the long line of cows Mrs Pilgrim milked with neatness and dispatch. Rita, watching, turned as Imogen reached her side. ‘Why were you such ages?’ she asked, sounding indignant. ‘Jill says we can watch for today and then tomorrow, if the snow holds off, we can each have a go at milking, Debby first, me second and you last.’
    ‘It’s not fair; it’s all your fault because you wouldn’t swap boots and let me have my own back,’ Imogen said crossly. ‘And if Jill asked why I wasn’t with the rest of you I bet you never said you’d nicked my boots. Yours are so small I could scarcely put one foot in front of the other. Come on, let’s swap now.’
    Rita bent down to remove her footwear, then stopped. ‘Hang on a moment! I don’t believe these are your boots, nor I don’t think those you’ve got on are mine. Just you show me