Free Cora Ravenwing by Gina Wilson Page A

off- putting . But by the time I’d reached my third I was enjoying the new taste. Then the door opened and in came Horti; she stepped neatly across to the oven and took out a plate of sausage rolls. She was small and black-haired with brown skin and dark eyes. She was wearing a scarlet silk scarf over her hair, a scarlet blouse and black skirt, stockings and shoes. There was a broad shiny belt around her waist with a big gold buckle. She balanced the plate aloft on one hand like a waitress and tripped elegantly across to the table. “Hello, girls,” she said and smiled warmly at all of us. She put the plate down in the middle of the table. “Tuck in. Right?”
    Hermione said: “Right! Very good! Horti, you must meet Becky—she’s the one I’ve been talking about, the one who writes poetry.”
    Horti stepped smartly round the table and shook my hand. “How do you do, Becky?” she said. “It’s nice to see you here. It’s a lovely house, isn’t it? And a lovely family. I love it here. Now, Hermione, chérie, if you want something else come and get me. I’m in my room.” She turned, and her black skirt swirled round with her. Then off she went, darting us a last bright smile as she went out.
    Susan could scarcely wait for the door to close before giggling and spluttering into her orange juice and mimicking Horti to a tee. “’Ello, ’ello! Ooh, ’Ermione, chérie ! Come eef you need me.” She burst into streams of mock-French , throwing her arms in the air and flashing her eyes in all directions.
    I thought Hermione would be angry, but she smiled indulgently across at Susan and waited for her to stop. “Try not to be a complete ass, Sue,” she said at last. Then she turned to me and said: “Horti’s super, actually. Her real name’s Hortense, you know. She’s from Normandy. She’s been with us eighteen months now. Mummy says she’s pure gold.”
    “Go on,” said Susan, giggling. “Tell Becky how she’s teaching you French …”
    “So she is,” said Hermione. “What’s wrong with that?”
    Firmly and quickly Barbara said: “Nothing.”
    I was thinking all the time that I’d seen Horti before, and suddenly I remembered. “I’ve seen her before,” I exclaimed. “—On the common.”
    “The common!” said Hermione.
    “Yes. She was with your big brother.”
    When I saw Hermione’s expression I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Even Susan managed to keep silent, though bursting with glee.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Well—yes. Just walking they were …”
    “But Mummy won’t hear of any of us going to the common. Which brother, anyway?”
    “The biggest one—Hector, is it?”
    “Hector and Horti!”
    “Just walking …” I muttered.
    “Oh, come on, Hermione,” said Barbara. “Hector’s over twenty now.”
    Hermione looked down at her plate. “Oh, it’s not that,” she mumbled. “It’s just that she never said … I don’t expect she means half she says to me. I bet she’s no intention of having me to stay when she goes back. And she knows Mummy thinks people who loiter around on the common are—common.”
    We all laughed uproariously at her little joke, but Hermione didn’t. I hoped she wouldn’t mention to her parents that I had been on the common, let alone Horti. “I’m terribly sorry,” I said nervously. “I wish I hadn’t said.”
    She sighed deeply. I thought she was going to cry, but suddenly she smiled at me and said: “Don’t be silly, Becky. I’m being daft. It’s just that I’ve always thought Horti was marvellous. And I thought she considered me an equal and told me everything. But of course she doesn’t. Not surprising really.”
    Susan said: “I do think you’re being brave, Hermione. I’m sorry I teased you so much earlier on. It’s rotten finding out that someone hasn’t been honest.”
    “Yes,” agreed Barbara, “—that awful let-down feeling.”
    “Oh, she’s not such a rat, really,” said Hermione. “I’m always thinking