Francie: Off to London by Hahn Emily

Author:Hahn, Emily [Hahn, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781504024723
Publisher: Open Road Distribution
Published: 2015-11-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

The morning after they came back to London the Nelsons were quiet at their hotel breakfast. Pop was thinking, no doubt, about oil, but Francie brooded on the ill-starred holiday visit, and she was inclined to be listless and mopey. This time, she felt, it hadn’t been her fault at all; hadn’t Pop himself been on her side? He hadn’t said a word about doing as the Romans do. Which meant that Mrs. Tennison was unjust, and Jennifer was a cat, and England was too difficult for words. Her American friends seemed far away. The only bright spot on the British map at the moment was Penelope, yet even at the thought of Penelope Francie did not cheer up. She felt worse, for Penny had written that she’d developed troubles of her own during the holiday.

Francie was not near to tears, but there was a small lump in her throat which threatened to become chronic. It was no use trying to eat. She was crumbling a piece of toast over her plate when Pop, who was reading a long letter, suddenly exclaimed, “If this isn’t timely! Who do you think’s here in England, not very far out of London? Your Aunt Laura!”

“Aunt Lolly?” Francie’s face was transfigured. She dropped her toast. “Really, Pop? Oh, that’s perfectly marvelous. Where is she? How come she’s here?”

“Well now, let me figure it out,” said Pop. “Martin’s been stationed here, evidently, and Laura wrote to us about it some time ago. Your letter, or mine—I forget which—told her about our plans—it must have crossed hers and hasn’t followed her back yet on a return trip. This letter’s gone to Jefferson and then was sent here, as you can see by all the postmarks and addresses. The point is, she doesn’t know we’re over in England at all. She’s been out at their rented place, The Warren, for the past six weeks, it looks like. Well, chicken, that’s good news, isn’t it?” He put the envelope on the table and smiled at her pleasure.

“What’s Uncle Martin here for?”

“Advising the Government, as usual. He used to be on Unesco, and then they shifted him over to Uno, and now—”

“Never mind all that alphabet,” said Francie, laughing. “It’s enough for me that he’s brought Aunt Lolly with him.”

Laura Barclay was her godmother, called “aunt” by courtesy. She had been a school friend of Francie’s mother, and through an adventurous busy life of traveling she had always kept in contact with her goddaughter, to the extent of visiting Jefferson whenever she came back to the States. Francie as a child had thought of her adored Aunt Lolly as a kind of fairy-tale person, and even now it seemed quite natural that she should pop up in England in this miraculous way.

“He’ll be here,” Pop was saying, “until the commission he’s sitting on has finished the inquiry they’re making, which is an unknown length of time, according to Laura, so she’s taken this house out in the country. Why didn’t they find somewhere to live in town, I wonder? It would be easier.

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