Free Sister of the Bride by Henrietta Reid

Rodney Etherton’s aunt, are you, because if so you won’t have got a very good impression.’
    I nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he has been fighting, and somehow I had imagined Rodney was the type of boy who would avoid that sort of thing. ’
    He looked surprised. ‘Oh, but you’re wrong. He’s nearly always in trouble of some sort or other.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘I’m sure you won’t mind if I speak freely, because I do feel that if the child were to receive a little more understanding he ’ d probably settle down quite nicely.’
    I smiled wryly. ‘I’d be glad of any hints on improving Rodney’s behaviour, but I’m afraid he has always been rather a handful. I expect it ’ s because he’s an only child and has been rather spoiled.’
    He shook his head. ‘On the contrary, in my opinion he hasn’t been spoiled enough.’ Again he hesitated and then said diffidently, ‘I realise of course that Mrs. Etherton leads a busy social life, but I do feel that if she took more interest in the boy it would give him confidence. He’s perpetually involved in brawls and quarrels, and I think, on the whole, it ’ s an effort to assert himself and to obtain notice. The other parents, for instance, who live in the district, attend our little plays and concerts, but Mrs. Etherton tells me she is too busy, or worse still promises to attend and then doesn’t turn up. Rodney did quite well in our last end-of-term play and was bitterly disappointed that his mother wasn’t amongst those in the audience.’
    It was typical of Averil’s selfishness, I realized, but I said defensively, ‘I expect she doesn’t realize how he feels about it. Rodney can seem such a self-reliant litt l e boy at times.’
    ‘None of us are completely self-sufficient, he said a little severely, then added apologetically, ‘After all, what can you do about it—except that when I saw you had called for him, I thought that perhaps— ’ He stopped, then changed the conversation and began to speak in polite generalities.
    Later, as I walked home with Rodney, I saw him eye rather enviously two boys who raced ahead thumping each other playfully with their satchels. ‘Browne has asked Fenwick home to tea, ’ he announced.
    ‘And don’t you ask your friends back to the cottage?’ I inquired.
    He shook his head. ‘I did once, but Mummy said they weren’t to come again as they weren’t really nice boys. ’
    ‘Nice’ had always been Averil’s word for socially acceptable: obviously Rodney’s companions at what she had described as ‘a seedy little prep school’ did not belong to the rich and socially prominent families that she was bent on cultivating. Remembering Mr. Fletcher’s words, I decided to take action at the risk of Averil’s disapproval. ‘Why don’t you ask one or two of your friends back to the cottage some afternoon?’ I inquired quietly.
    He looked at me in pleased surprise, then said cautiously, ‘You mean it doesn’t matter who I ask? ’
    ‘Of course not,’ I replied.
    ‘Then I’ll ask Phillips,’ he said with satisfaction.
    ‘Wasn’t that the boy you were fighting with?’ I remembered that name being yelled by their enthusiastic audience.
    He nodded. ‘Yes, but I like him all the same.’
    When I laughed he glanced at me a little shyly. ‘Perhaps Mrs. McAlister would make a nice cake and some jellies? ’
    ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised,’ I said cheerfully. ‘It’s just the sort of thing she’d like to do, I expect.’
    We walked the next few yards in companionable silence, but I could see that Rodney was already reviewing the idea with pleasure. I pushed all thoughts of Averil’s disapproval firmly out of my mind.
    We were approaching the cottage gate when a large gleaming chauffeur-driven car going in the opposite direction drew up in a cloud of dust and I felt Rodney' tug apprehensively at my hand. ‘It’s Mrs. Ashmore,’ he told me, then scutt l ed guiltily up the path and