Twelve Drummers Drumming by C. C. Benison Read Free Book Online Page A

odd sort of girl, or maybe different is the word. That probably comes from having lived most of her life in London with her mother and her mother’s many boyfriends. I expect you’ve read about Oona Blanc before in the papers. I would have said it was a good thing Colm finally got to have Sybella live here in Thornford, but considering what’s happened, I’m not sure now. Awful to think the poor girl might have been safer in London! As it happens, I was in the v. hall when her body was found—inside one of those big Japanese drums that I told you about yesterday! I was with Colonel Northmore who wanted to have a quiet cup of tea in the v. hall. I think he was secretly pleased that the drum was
damaged, awful to say. Of course, he hates anything Japanese, as well you know. When I took him to the Waterside for lunch the other week, he wouldn’t go in because Liam Drewe had advertised sushi on his signboard! He won’t stomach rice. Never has. Not since being in that prison camp where all they got to eat was a bit of maggotty rice. And, of course, he’s never said a civil word to Mrs. Drewe. I’ve pointed out to him that she was born in England, but he just gets that stubborn look of his. Poor Colm. I feel wretched for him. He dotesd on Sybella and she was coming along, I think, although she would look at you in the road sometimes like she knew your darkest secret. I would think to myself—but I don’t have a darkest secret! Do I? Maybe you know of one, Mum. Colm would do good to dote on his son. Declan’s such a great lump of a boy. He must be 10 stone and he’s only 13. Sybella is was beautiful like her mother, although you have had to look past all the black dyed hair and the piercings to see it. I wonder if we shall see Oona at the funeral? I expect we will. She could hardly not attend her daughter’s funeral, though I wonder what condition she’ll be in. You still see her in the papers, of course, but it’s all drugs, not fashion modelling anymore. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. (Not like you and me, of course!) And with Oona here, there’ll probably be press nosing about. Little Miranda was in the hall, too, when all this took place and Mr. Christmas had me take her out quickly. Poor child, she’s only just lost her mother, after all. I know you’ve wondered how I would take to having a child here at the vicarage. Mr. James-Douglas had his nephews visit from time to time, of course, but you could hardly call those young men children, though, frankly, Miranda could have given them a lesson in manners and deportment. I said to Mr. Christmas just the other day, after Miranda had a little outburst after being reminded about her bedtime, I don’t know if I can be a mother to her, and he said, don’t, be a grandmother, which made me
wonder how old he thinks I am, but it was a bit of a relief, I suppose. Anyway, Miranda’s good as cream most of the time. She’s very independent, though I wish at times she wouldn’t speak French. The rest of the May Fayre went off without ah any other hitch tragedy. I didn’t mind the Japanese drumming in the end. Very loud but quite something! Of course they were one drum short, but they decided to “go on with the show” anyway. Apparently Colm insisted. It was very good of him in the circumstances. I’ve had my doubts about Mr. Christmas, but he comported himself well, I thought. An ambulance came for Phillip, and that caused a bit of fuss. I forgot to tell you Phillip broke his hip in the hall. What a day! Anyway he Mr. Christmas got the police to go into the hall through the fire exit, so most people couldn’t see them and get upset. And he was very good with Colm, I thought. Poor man. He looked quite stunned. I did notice Mr. Christmas looking at Julia Hennis in an odd way when we were in the v. hall. She’s his sister-in-law. I may have mentioned that before. Henry VIII married his brother’s wife. Would marrying your wife’s sister be the same thing?