Free Fourpenny Flyer by Beryl Kingston Page A

profering two limpfingers to each of the brothers in turn. ‘Womantic wout, ain’t it? Weally womantic. They’ve got woses everywhere. Positively miles and miles of wed woses. It’s incwedible.’
    She was a peculiarly unattractive girl, John thought, and her lack of charm was accentuated by that deliberate drawling lisp. She was far too tall for a start, and bony and gawky, her fair hair tortured into lank ringlets, and her faced so blotched with freckles that at first sight he thought she was suffering from some sort of skin disease. A bean pole with a skin disease he thought, wryly. But he was not to be allowed to avoid her.
    â€˜You are to dance with my dear Lizzie,’ Matilda whispered, leaning towards Billy’s chest until she was touching his waistcoat with the tips of her fingers. ‘Both of you. Because she is my very dearest friend. And you are to dance with her first, Mr William Easter, or I vow I shan’t tread a single measure with you myself. No, not so much as one single measure. So you’ve been warned you bad, bad boy.’
    So of course Lizzie’s card had to be marked there and then, and two dances booked with each of them, which she pronounced, ‘Perfectly thwilling!’ in tones of unalloyed boredom.
    As he put his dance card back into his pocket John knew that it was going to be a perfectly dreadful evening. And for a fleeting second before Matilda rushed them off to pay their respects to her parents, he remembered the quiet girl he’d danced with in Bury St Edmunds and wished she could be here to rescue him.
    But no rescue was at hand, and the impossible Lizzie was pushed before him at every turn, almost as if Miss Honeywood was going out of her way to fling them together, which heaven forefend. She was produced at supper time, to tempt him with a plateful of vol-au-vents as limp as her curls; she was propelled flat-footed into the centre of the Scottische to partner him; and even when he fled from her company to a quiet seat in the darkest corner of the long library, somehow or other she appeared on the very next seat before three minutes of precious privacy had passed. It was like being pursued by a broomstick. By the time midnight struck and he was endeavouring to waltz with herwhile keeping her at arm’s length he was heartily sick of her. It was quite a relief to hear his mother’s bold laugh and to realize that she had joined the company. Now at last he had a perfectly proper reason to desert the dance floor and leave his unwanted companion.
    â€˜My heart alive!’ Nan Easter said, when the dance was done and he was able to join her. ‘
Who
was that apparition a-hanging onto your arm?’
    He gave her a little grimace of agreement and explained. ‘Her name is Lizzie Something-or-other, and she is Miss Honeywood’s best friend, according to Miss Honeywood.’
    â€˜Ah!’ his mother said, understanding at once. ‘’Tis the habit of pretty young girls nowadays to choose some great gawk to befriend. ’Tis uncharitable, in all conscience, but a neat ruse, for it renders their beauty inescapable.’
    John grimaced again. ‘It has been my experience tonight, Mama,’ he said, ‘that it is the great gawk who is inescapable.’
    â€˜Fetch me a rum punch,’ she said, grinning at him, ‘and we will go into the library and talk business.’
    William Easter had been sent for rum punch too, and was equally glad to go, although for very different reasons. It was always a pleasure to wait on his dear Matilda and, besides, dancing had given him a thirst.
    â€˜D’you see my Matilda?’ he asked his brother as they stood side by side at the serving table. ‘Ain’t she just a corker? Come and join us, why don’t you?’
    â€˜Because this rum punch is for Mama.’
    â€˜Ah!’ his brother said. ‘Duty before pleasure, eh?’ And was surprised when John