Free Patrick Parker's Progress by Mavis Cheek Page B

were lovely ’ she said. 'But you didn't think they were big or grand enough?'
    'Well, they weren't ’ he said.
    'Well, maybe they were for a queen but not for a king?' She was thinking that at home they had just bought two new fireside chairs and the one for her father was bigger than the one for her mother (though her mother's bottom, if she thought about it, was considerably bigger than her dad's) so it seemed logical.
    'When I build my bridge it won't just be for the Queen - or a king for that matter. It will be for posterity.'
    'What's that? 'asked Sandy drowsily.
    'Eternal fame ’ said Patrick.
    'Like Greta Garbo ’ said Audrey dreamily.
    'Not like Greta Garbo ’ he said, but he gave up. What did she or Sandy or any of them know?
    Audrey gazed out of the window with longing as they sped past fields and cows and sweet little tucked-away cottages. She would like to live in one of them. With somebody clever like Patrick. They were what her mother called Little Palaces. Patrick stared out of the window too, half listening, also half dreaming. 'Trouble with that ’ he said, 'is that she won't be crowned again. They only do it once.'
    'Oh there'll be something else ’ said Audrey to cheer him up. 'Something else to do with her wearing her crown and going in a coach and all that. She'll want a bridge for something one day.'
    "There is always ’ said Patrick, brightening, 'her funeral.'
    Audrey laughed, but she was shocked. 'Patrick 1 .' she said. 'You could get your head chopped off for that.'
    Patrick was so woebegone that she dared to take his hand in hers. She gazed into his eyes with adoring admiration. "There'll be something else, you bet,' she said. 'Something big and historical. You can do it then.' And she snuggled up even further, liking it. Patrick quite liked it too, though he was also quite enjoying his troubled aura. Sandy suddenly threw himself between the two of them and looked up smiling. 'Oh no, you don't ’ he said, and wedged himself firmly in.
    When they arrived at the station nearest to Ironbridge, Audrey let the boys deal with the bicycles while she nipped into the waiting room, rolled up her shorts, put on a bit of lipstick in the mirror and emerged feeling suitably sophisticated. The map was consulted, water bottles filled and off they set. Despite her bro ther's best efforts Audrey made sure that she cycled right next to Patrick. Sandy was behind them and puffing to keep up.
    'I'll tell on you ’ he said, though whether it was the lipstick, the shorts or the way his sister ignored him, neither of the two front parties bothered to find out. Patrick hunched his shoulders, pressing on, longing to get there, and Audrey was cycling as languorously close to him as she could while keeping up. Patrick noticed that he was puffing and sweating considerably more than she was, which increased his determination to stay ahead. And she, also determined, kept up. In the end he could neither ignore her legs as they moved up and down, up and down so close to him and in such a mesmerising rhythm, nor her smile which appeared to be stuck on with glue. It was all very disturbing.
    Eventually honour was served when he skidded to a halt and said that he thought they really ought to go a bit more slowly for Sandy's sake. She, still smiling that smile, agreed. Sitting on the grass verge she undid the top two buttons of her blouse, threw back her head, and took a long drink of water. He was even more disturbed and vaguely irritated. He did not want to think about anything else but getting to Ironbridge. Once back on the road he cycled faster saying he thought single file was safer. She agreed. Sandy wailed behind them. She shouted to him to keep pedalling and shut up, gained and then slightly overtook Patrick. That was not what he had meant. It was even worse staring straight at her bottom and thighs which were now only a yard or two in front. He tried to suggest that he should overtake her but he needed all his