Paper Faces by Rachel Anderson

Author:Rachel Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466878778
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

11

In the Henhouse

Dot could hear them just inside the house. Mrs. Hollidaye was doing most of the speaking.

“Yes, my dear, I do understand how it must seem hard to you.”

Dot knew it was something to do with her father.

“But you’ve got to try. For yourself. For the child. For him, too.”

And Dot knew that Gloria was crying.

“My dear, he’s going to need you more than ever before.”

Dot could hear Gloria saying she wouldn’t and she couldn’t.

Then Mrs. Hollidaye said, “My dear girl, you have to start making a home. And you know that you will always be welcome back here on another occasion. Now, while you go and dry those eyes, I’ll look up the trains.”

Dot in the conservatory watched as Loopy Lil slowly tried to pick up the unsteady tray of china. Dot knew what was going to happen.

The wobbling teacup on the top fell first, the rest followed. Cups, saucers, teapot, milk jug with its little muslin cloth, plates, and splattered jam. The crashing seemed to go on forever as tiny broken fragments bounced with a dainty tinkle across the brick floor.

Loopy Lil stared round at the destruction with a look of hopelessness as though she did not understand how it had happened. Dot knew that Mrs. Hollidaye would come to comfort her, to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. Poor Loopy Lil, she had a screw loose. She’d only been trying to help.

But Dot couldn’t do anything for her because she had to escape. She must hide before Gloria found her. She darted for the open doors and down the stone steps to the garden. She ran round the outside of the house, barging past bushes and shrubs. She found her way to the kitchen. She wanted to go along the side passage and up the back stairs to the bedroom with the toys where she could safely hide.

But the house was too big and she lost her way. Instead, she was in a dark lobby full of musty boots. She ran out again through a side entrance. She recognized where she was. This was the yard where Mrs. Hollidaye fed the hens, throwing down the corn for them to peck up.

She could hear Gloria behind calling for her.

She ran back across the yard to the henhouse, through the netting gate, across the muddy enclosure, scattering hens at each step. Then crouching low, she squeezed herself through the hens’ low archway and into the dark warm gloom of their hut. More hens sat clucking on their roosts.

The hens were all right. They didn’t have to go anywhere. This was their home and they could stay here always.

“Going time, Dot,” said Gloria outside. “Come on out.”

Dot kept still and quiet, head down and hunched like a bird sleeping, hoping Gloria wouldn’t know she was in there. But the fowl were irritated by this invasion of their hut and their clucking gave her away.

“Come on, pet. We know you’re in there.”

“We only just got here!” Dot yelled, not coming out.

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