Family Roundabout by Richmal Crompton

Author:Richmal Crompton [Crompton, Richmal]
Language: eng
Format: azw, epub
ISBN: 9781906462178
Publisher: Persephone Books
Published: 2016-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cynthia cycled down the narrow lane that led to Arnold Palmer’s cottage. The air was sweet with the scent of new-mown hay, and feathery tufts on the hedges marked the recent passage of the hay wagons. The ditches on either side foamed with the milky blossom of wild parsley, and the song of the cuckoo rang out with sleepy persistence from a neighbouring wood.

Cynthia had been Arnold Palmer’s secretary now for six years. Every day she cycled over to Ivy Dene Cottage after an early breakfast and often did not return till dinner-time. Mrs. Willoughby regarded this arrangement with mixed feelings. It irked her that a daughter of hers should be at the beck and call of someone whom she regarded as a useless member of the community, but she realized that girls were now beginning to take up jobs as a matter of course, and this job had the advantage of being close at hand, so that she could keep her eye on her daughter and know exactly where she was at every moment of every day, which was, Mrs. Willoughby considered, one of the primary duties of motherhood.

Cynthia’s brows were drawn into an anxious frown as she cycled along the lane. Arnold Palmer was giving a cocktail party this evening and most of the duties in connection with it naturally devolved on Cynthia.

She felt nervous and apprehensive, terrified of forgetting something or making some social blunder. She was still gauche and shy and at her worst with strangers. Her mind ran over the preparations. . . . She had stayed up late last night making savoury biscuits. She would bring them over this afternoon together with the glasses and flowers, which were also being provided by the Willoughby household. The bottles of sherry, gin and other drinks had arrived yesterday and were safely stored under the stairs. There was nothing further she could do till after lunch. In any case she must keep her mind clear for Chapter Ten this morning....

And at the thought of Chapter Ten a ray of happiness flooded her heart. Blue Roses was going beautifully. There had been no snags at all so far. And Chapter Ten, Cynthia was sure, was going to be one of his really fine pieces of work – moving, dramatic, with those touches of whimsical humour that, as a reviewer had put it, ran like a golden thread through all his stories. She glanced at her watch and, finding that she was in good time, relaxed her speed and allowed her eyes to wander over the countryside. . . .

It reminds me of that description of a June day in Chapter Three, she thought – the one where he describes the fleecy white clouds and says they’re like sheep asleep in a blue field. That chapter was so beautiful that I forgot it was being dictated and just listened.

It made him laugh. He said, ‘Wake up, Slowcoach’….I wish he was getting better reviews on Phantom Flames.

He’s so sensitive. He minds so much, though he pretends not to.

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