Family Album by Penelope Lively

Author:Penelope Lively [Lively, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literary, Psychological, General, Family Life, Fiction
ISBN: 9780143117872
Google: byaOOY5GegwC
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2009-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

The days of the Volkswagen were long gone. There were now two cars—an elderly Volvo estate that was mainly Alison’s and an equally mature Vauxhall that was perhaps mainly Charles’s except that Charles was not a man to have any sort of relationship with a car. He used it from time to time, but was unsure where the keys were kept and did not know how you would check the oil or the tire pressure. These two vehicles would accommodate the entire family for occasions such as this (fewer and further between, these days)—five in one and four in the other, with room to squeeze in an extra such as Stefan.

There was argument about who should go in which car for the drive to Dorchester, which would take an hour and a half or so. Charles and Alison would both appreciate a navigator, and the only volunteer map readers were Paul and Gina. Clare would feel sick in the Vauxhall. The Vauxhall being the smaller car, the two other smaller people—Roger and Stefan—would have to go in that, or there would be a squash. Eventually, the two parties were sorted out thus: Gina, Ingrid, Katie, and Clare in the Volvo, driven by Alison; Sandra, Paul, Stefan, and Roger in the Vauxhall, with Charles driving. The picnic—several baskets, boxes, and hampers—was loaded into the back of the Volvo, along with rugs and a few folding chairs. The weather was looking a little dubious, but Alison was all optimism: “It’ll clear up—you’ll see.”

In the Vauxhall, Paul sat next to Charles in the front, with the map; Sandra, Roger, and Stefan occupied the backseat. Initially they tailed the Volvo, but soon lost it at a roundabout. Charles and Paul bickered over Paul’s map reading after one wrong turn was taken, landing them in a housing estate. “I thought we’d do the scenic route,” said Paul cheerfully. Charles was not amused: “I understood you to be competent with a map.”

After a further half hour they went wrong again. “I meant left,” said Paul. “Sorry about that.” Charles was silent for a few moments. Then, “You’ll notice, Stefan, that my son seems unable to distinguish left and right, a failing that would make him ineligible even for army recruitment.”

“I don’t think Stefan quite heard that, Dad,” said Paul. “Don’t worry—if the army won’t have me I daresay something else will turn up.”

Stefan stared rigidly out of the window.

They stopped for petrol. Paul left the car while Charles was filling up and returned from the shop with a six-pack of lager.

“Are you going to drink that?” said Sandra.

Paul sat down and stowed the lager alongside his seat. “No, I’m going to pour it down the slopes of Maiden Castle as a libation.”

Charles returned. They set off once more. Stefan, who, along with Roger, had bought a bar of chocolate and seemed to rally a little, said, “The place we are going to . . . it is very old?”

“Maiden Castle,” said Paul, “is the site of the annual slaughter of a dozen nubile maidens in a ritual designed to ensure national productivity.

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