Great Meadow by Dirk Bogarde

Author:Dirk Bogarde
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1992-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

Then Winnie Moss came out and said that the money I’d given her was exact to the ha’penny, and did my sister mean Cologne. And we both remembered that that was right. It was hopeless walking home with my sister, she was so sarcastic and pleased with herself because she had remembered the rotten place and I had forgotten. But honestly, who would remember a name like Cologne? Unless they had headaches or something. So I just carried the honeycomb carefully and didn’t speak. Not one single word. And serve her right. Only she just went on singing ‘All the King’s Horses’, but she didn’t know all the words, so she just la-la’d all the way back until we got to Great Meadow and turned into the field. And I really would have quite liked to have given her a terrific bonk on the head.

But I didn’t.

It really was so hot that we ducked under the trailing brambles and old man’s beard at the start of the gully and walked up to the cottage in the cool, speckly shade. My heel hurt a bit, so I took off my plimsolls because I knew where all the stony bits of the path were, so that was all right. My sister had stopped singing about all the King’s horses and all the King’s men, thank goodness. But I could tell she was having a good think. I knew that because she was biting away at her bottom lip, and that was never a good sign. She was working something out, and when she asked could she carry the honeycomb, I knew that her think would be a bit worrying.

‘I’ve been carrying this ever since we left the Friar’s Head. Hours ago. Now you say you’ll carry it! Just when we can see the roof of the cottage! We are almost home.’

‘Well, I asked you . . .’

‘You are hinting. ’

‘You are vile! I won’t say another word. Not another.’ And she tripped over a bit of dead tree. ‘Not a word. And it was something lovely. For you.’

‘What was?’

‘My think.’

‘Well, say then. Go on. Say. What? Tell.’ I was getting a bit puffed and the sweat was running down my back. I knew I should be thinking ‘perspiration’ but I was too tired. So I just thought ‘sweat’.

‘Well, you remember that dear little shell-thing I got in the crackers at Christmas?’

‘No.’

‘You do!’

‘Do not. Don’t remember. What little shell-thing?’

‘A dear little Japanese shell and when you drop it into a tumbler of water it just bursts open, and the most lovely, amazing flowers start growing. Just in a tumbler of water. Really magic flowers. You do remember? We had them last year too, only this year I got it.’

I did remember, of course, as soon as she said it, but I was hot and a bit fed up because then all I had got was a wooden whistle and a paper hat. But I was sure she had opened her shell and put it in water already, so there was no need to show her that I was interested.

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