The Corner Shop by Cadell Elizabeth

Author:Cadell, Elizabeth [Cadell, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: The Friendly Air Publishing
Published: 2016-03-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

She did not know how long she stood there—but when at last she moved, it was with swiftness and purpose. She had only one idea: to get in touch with the Professor. He could no longer stand aside watching events with amused tolerance. His housekeeper could no longer be regarded as honest; she was handling stolen property.

She discarded the idea of using her aunt’s telephone; she was discouraged from making even local calls. She put on a coat and ran downstairs; as she went, she heard the telephone in the flat ringing. She ignored it. She opened the street door, remembered that she had come down without a latchkey, ran upstairs and fetched one. The telephone was still ringing. She ran downstairs and out into the street; she would have to telephone from the cafe on the corner—not on the corner close by, but at the other end. As she hurried down the street, she saw a man about to enter the cafe; she raced him by a yard. Then she came out again; before telephoning, it was necessary to know the number. It was also necessary to have money. She hurried back to the flat, looked up the number of the farm, picked up her purse and went out again. Rain had begun to fall; she was without headscarf or umbrella. In a moment, drops that felt icy were trickling down her face and down the back of her neck. But her fear of undue delay in getting through was happily not realised; after standing, receiver to ear, listening to a confusion of sounds in French and English, hearing foreign or familiar exchanges named, she could distinguish at last the dialling sound that meant she was connected with the farm.

Al answered the telephone. It was a pity; any of the others could have been induced to summon Red, but Al’s curiosity had first to be satisfied.

“Who ja say?”

“Mrs. Abbey. Look—”

“No, she’s gorn. She went away. Who’s that wanting her?”

“Nobody wants her. This is Mrs. Abbey speaking, Al. Will you please go and call Red? Quickly.”

“I thought you’d gorn away to Paris, or something.”

“I did. Will you please—”

“You don’t mean you’re speaking from there?”

“Yes. Will you please go and—”

“Mum! Grandie!” screamed Al. “Come’n hark at this. It’s Mrs. Abbey. Roz! Come here. It’s Mrs. Abbey talking all the way from Paris.”

“Al, I want RED.”

“Red, she wants you. Red, she’s taking from Paris. Mrs. Abbey, it is. Oh Roz, let poor Mum have a look in, will you? Come on, Mum—can you hear her? Now your turn, Roz.”

“Roz, go away! ” Lucille shouted. “Send Red, quickly.” She heard sounds of a fierce quarrel. The receiver was dropped, picked up and snatched away; there were loud arguments and, finally, tears. At last Red’s voice came through.

“That you, Mrs. Abbey?”

“Oh, thank goodness! Red, can you hear? Send ... those ... others ... away. Can you hear me?”

“Sort of. Oh Dot, get out of it. Stop howling; how d’you expect me to hear anything? Mum, get ’em away, will you?—That’s it.

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