Free Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively Page B

Granny’s dressing-table there is Eau de Cologne and Pond’s Cold Cream and the Maison Pearson hairbrush and the mirror with the silver handle.
    ‘Find something to do,’ says Claudia. I can’t, shouts Lisa, I can’t I can’t I can’t I don’t know where to find it I don’t know where to look I want pink fingernails like yours I want to be you not me I want to make you look at me I want you to say Lisa how pretty you are.

5

    ‘God,’ she says, ‘is an unprincipled bastard, wouldn’t you agree?’
    And the nurses, who are aged twenty-one and twenty-four, freeze for an instant amid their deft tucking and folding and heaving. They exchange quick knowing glances. ‘Goodness,’ says the fair nurse. ‘That’s a funny thing to say. Do you want tea or coffee, Miss Hampton?’
    ‘Come,’ says Claudia. ‘You can’t work in a place like this and never have given the matter a thought. Is He or isn’t He?’
    ‘Oh, I’m not religious,’ says the dark nurse. ‘Not a bit. My mum is, though, she goes to church. Tea or coffee, dear?’
    ‘Well, I hope she knows what she’s about,’ says Claudia. ‘Tea. No sugar.’
    I would never have agreed to Lisa being christened. Jasper wouldn’t have cared one way or the other. The grandmothers, in cunning collusion, had it done without mentioning the matter, smuggling her along to the vicar at Sotleigh (and a nice little tea-party for a few old friends after, I don’t doubt). I found out by accident, months later, and rounded on them both. ‘What’s this?’ I said. ‘Spiritual vaccination? A bit of crafty life insurance? And who asked me?’ They defended themselves according to their lights. ‘We didn’t ask you because you were so busy,’ said Mother. ‘And we knew youwouldn’t want to come.’ Lady Branscombe sighed, ‘Claudia dear… We just thought it would be nice. The poor little pet – one wants to do everything one can for her. And the vicar would have been so hurt not to be asked.’ Lisa was enrolled in the Church of England in order not to give offence and so that Lady Branscombe could get out the family christening robe and the Crown Derby tea service. ‘Well,’ said Jasper, ‘it does no positive harm, I daresay.’ Oh no, none at all; just as well to belong to several clubs, you never know which may come in useful.
    ‘Incidentally,’ says Claudia, ‘have you ever resigned from the Church?’
    Lisa jumps, and lowers the book she has been reading; her mother’s eyes are still closed, her sharp thin nose points still at the ceiling, but she is not, evidently, asleep.
    ‘You’re awake… I hadn’t realised.’
    ‘Ah,’ says Claudia. ‘Is that what I am? I sometimes wonder.’
    Lisa closes the book. She rises, smooths her dress, and goes to stand looking down on Claudia. It occurs to her that she has not often before looked on Claudia from above. She asks if there is anything Claudia needs. Should she call the nurse?
    ‘No,’ says Claudia. ‘I see quite enough nurses. You haven’t answered my question.’
    ‘I don’t often go to church,’ says Lisa, ‘if that’s what you mean. Just occasionally – Christmas, special services at the boys’ school, that sort of thing.’
    ‘It isn’t what I meant,’ says Claudia.
    Lisa considers Claudia’s face, which is the colour of yellowed ivory, in which the eyes lie within deep violet sockets; beneath the puckered skin she can see the bones of Claudia’s skull. ‘I’m not sure that I believe in God.’
    ‘Oh I do,’ says Claudia. ‘Who else could bugger things up so effectively?’
    A nurse puts her head round the door – the fair nurse, aged twenty-one. ‘Everything all right?’
    ‘Fine,’ says Lisa. ‘Thank you.’
    ‘She’s having one of her good days. Nice and chatty.’
    The door closes. Claudia opens one eye, checks the nurse’s departure, stares up at the ceiling. ‘Tell me what you’ve been doing.’
    ‘Well,’ says Lisa. ‘It was the boys’ half-term last