The Man Who Didn't Fly by Margot Bennett

Author:Margot Bennett [Bennett, Margot]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-24T23:00:00+00:00

“Then carrying my incredible maps,

I knocked at the strange king’s door,

And asked now for only one ship

To drive through the unwaked sea

To that half-predicted shore,”

Harry said promptly.

Prudence tried twitching her lip. “Is it something to do with history?” she asked, backing away.

“No, it’s about me,” Harry said, grinning. “Practically all my poetry is about me.”

“If it’s about you what does it mean?”

“It means I want you to ask me to lunch,” he said in a serious voice.

“Well, I shan’t,” Prudence said irritably. “I don’t know why you want to write poetry anyway, even if it was good. There are lots of things that pay better and you don’t have to know anything. You could be an M.P or an editor or something.”

“Or a tinker or a tailor. I like the idea of manual work, but my hands won’t co-operate.”

“They co-operated all right when you were tearing up that floor.”

“Shall I tell you why you’re so aggressive towards me, Prudence?”

Prudence sighed and raised her eyes to the tops of the trees, a monument to patience, preparing to be incredulous.

“It’s because you’re too young. When you’re older, you’ll find that most men are as monotonous as steam-hammers. When you’ve been battered by a hundred thousand soporific words from jolly decent chaps, you’ll yearn for my company. But I shan’t be there. I believe in moving on.”

“Anyway, you’ve stayed here a long time.”

“Only a few weeks. Your family’s been here for hundreds of years. It’s time you moved on, too.”

For a startled second, Prudence looked at him as though she had encountered a friend. Of all the adults she knew, he was the only one who occasionally recognised an obvious truth. She was in this vulnerable state when they heard someone coming towards them through the woods.

Harry caught her hand. “Let’s hide,” he whispered. His face was bright and serious; he was like a soldier who enjoys war and has sighted the enemy at last. Prudence, to her surprise, found herself kneeling behind a bush, watching the man who came furtively through the trees to the chapel.

It was Morgan. He stopped by one of the broken walls, and waited, listening. Then he moved on to the ruined stone floor and knelt down. He was half sheltered by the wall, and they could no longer see him.

Prudence, hiding behind the bush, took a minute to realise how childishly she and Harry were behaving. Hiding behind bushes, watching people who thought they were alone, was too much like the games she had played long ago, when she was twelve or thirteen. She pulled her hand away from Harry’s and stood up.

“I’m going home now,” she said clearly.

She walked towards the chapel. “Good morning, Morgan,” she said.

He jumped up.

“Hello, Prudence. Hello. Hello, Prudence,” he said in an agitated voice. “I – came here – I can’t stand the house when that little crook’s in it. He’s still there, is he, Prudence? Has your father sent for the police?” He was talking wildly, and it was evident to Prudence that he had no idea what he was saying.

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