Free Summer at World's End by Monica Dickens Page A

Harvey and I had to operate’, or, ‘Mr Harvey and I gave the old dog a few more years of life.’
    ‘I’ve got an old dog at home,’ Liza said. ‘He’s the only reason I want to go back.’
    ‘Oh come along now Liza,’ began Mrs Figg in her comfortable, Mount Pleasant matron voice. ‘You know that’s — ‘
    But Liza paid no attention. ‘Can you imagine anyone who likes Mount Putrid better than home?’ she asked Tom. ‘That’s what mine’s like.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Tom said. He sat with his long arms round his bony knees. He and Liza looked at each other sadly.
    Cantering along the grass verge of the road, like a loose-sitting cowboy in a Western film, came …
    ‘What is that?’ Mrs Figg stood up.
    ‘It’s Lester. Your son,’ Carrie added helpfully.
    ‘But what’s that thing he’s riding?’
    ‘A horse.’
    ‘I can see that, dear,’ Mrs Figg said patiently, as ifCarrie were an especially stupid Mount Pleasant girl. ‘Where did he get it?’
    ‘He’s part Arab, part thoroughbred, part New Forest, the most beautiful action you —’
    ‘I said, where did he get it?’
    ‘It was given to us.’
    ‘Don’t try me, Carrie. I’ve had a hard day at work.’
    Lester hopped Peter over the shallow dry ditch and came towards them over the lawn. What with Henry and Lucy and the dabbling ducks, and Oliver getting out of the meadow, or drawing the bolt of his loose box, the lawn was a disaster anyway. But daisies came up all over it, and tufts of tiny yellow flowers, like microscopic stars.
    ‘That’s a nice horse, son.’ Mrs Figg folded her strong arms and pursed her mouth and nodded horsily, although she knew nothing about horses.
    ‘The best.’ Peter put his head down to the grass and Lester slid down to the ground over his tail.
    ‘Where did you get him?’
    ‘Well, once upon a time, there was this man called Mr No Thanks. And he had this evil daughter, you see …’ Lester began to tell the adventure, telling it well, acting it out, putting on different voices, making a good story out of it, to entertain his mother and Liza.
    Liza was entertained. Her eyes lit up behind the defiantly heavy make-up. Her pale mouth lifted at the corners.
    Mrs Figg was not entertained. When Lester had finished with the scene in which Mr Novak had said he’d be glad if they kept the horse, she said in a voice that was quiet, but loaded, ‘I thought you promised me you’d make up no more tales.’ Many of the things that Lester told her were too fantastic for her to believe.
    ‘It’s true.’ He looked surprised. He had not thought of her doubting this story.
    ‘What would you do with such a boy?’ Mrs Figg turned in exasperation to Tom, who was nearest in age to being on her side. ‘He must think I’m soft in the head, the tales he spins. Talked to a spider… Saw a city at the bottom of the pond … Rich man gives him a valuable horse … I don’t know what’s to be done with him, I swear.’
    ‘It is true though,’ Tom said. ‘Mr Novak did —’
    ‘You’re all in league against reason.’ Mrs Figg threw up her hands. ‘Come along Liza, or we’ll miss that train.’
    ‘I hope we bloomin’ do,’ Liza said sulkily.
    ‘When I was a girl, we didn’t talk to our elders like that. I don’t know what young people are coming to.’ Mrs Figg was quite huffed. ‘You come along home with me, young Lester Figg,’ she said.
    ‘I’ll just put Peter away.’ Lester stood astride Peter’s bent neck, and the horse lifted his head and slid him down on to his back.
    ‘You’ll do no such thing.’ His mother caught his bare leg and pulled him off again. ‘Carrie can take the horse. You’re coming home with me and tidy your room. It looks like a battlefield. And if you don’t get rid of those caterpillars before your dad gets home…’
    She grumbled him away. Carrie ran after them. ‘Could you come to tea on Sunday, Mrs Figg?’ No time to explain.
    ‘I’ll be busy.’
    ‘Couldn’t you