Free The Importance of Being Ernestine by Dorothy Cannell Page A

mangy.
    â€œWe all love Daddy,” I said, stepping up to the table, “but it seems we’ve got to manage without him this morning.”
    â€œMummy! Mummy!” squealed Rose.
    â€œYour hair is so pretty.” Abbey reached up to stroke it. “Will I have to be all grown up before mine gets long down my back?”
    â€œCan I have a boiled egg?” Tam asked.“With the army?”
    â€œHe means he wants his bread and butter cut up into soldiers,” I explained to Freddy while getting down a saucepan from the hanging rack above the Aga. “Where is Ben?”
    â€œGone down to Abigail’s. He said that if he stayed here he’d waste the whole morning at the computer. Obviously, he would have waited until you got up if I hadn’t done my cousinly duty in showing up to forage through the fridge. I’ve nothing in mine except a bottle of tomato sauce.”
    â€œThere are such places as supermarkets,” I replied, popping eggs into the boiling water.
    â€œI’ve heard they charge money”—Freddy stood eating cereal out of the box—“and I don’t think that sort of thing should be encouraged. Call me an idealist, but someone has to make a stand.” He elbowed past me to munch on the slice of bread I had buttered for Tam.
    â€œI suppose it’s a matter of principle with your mother,” I said before I could stop myself. “Enjoying getting things for free, I mean.”
    â€œYou mean pinching stuff?”
    â€œIt was wrong of me to bring it up.”
    â€œA girl at school pinched me,” Abbey’s mouth trembled.
    â€œShe’ll go to hell for that.” Tam was gobbling up his egg, and Rose was looking around for hers. Abbey did not eat eggs. She said they gave her indigestion just like they did Mrs. Malloy. All three children were devoted to Mrs. Malloy, cheerfully believing that she had magic potions in her bag and flew around on the Hoover when they were in school to speed up the cleaning.
    â€œYour mother’s a dear,” I said, handing Freddy a cup of tea. “And we all have our little foibles. I know you worry about her, but look on the bright side. She doesn’t smoke or drink. . . .”
    â€œPeople that smoke go to hell.” Tam licked egg off his face.
    â€œWho told you that?”
    â€œA boy in my class. His father says he hopes they all fry. Like a pan of chips. And choke on the smoke.”
    â€œDid you ever smoke, Mummy?” Abbey clutched my hand in blue-eyed terror.
    Freddy saved me from answering. “Some ghoul, that father! Puts the point across that there are worse things in life than dear old Mum’s little problem. Although I’ve got to admit, coz, that I do occasionally worry that it’ll all catch up with her, and she’ll end up in the clink.” He sighed heavily. “The thought of Dad cooking Christmas dinner for the next thirty years is not a happy one. I’ll be lucky to get a poached egg. He was fixing himself one last night when I phoned. And was in a very nasty temper about it. You’d have thought Mum had left him to fight the Battle of Waterloo all on his little lonesome.”
    â€œWhere was she?” I was gathering up plates and putting them in the sink.
    â€œDown at some pub.”
    â€œShe’s entitled to a little outing.”
    â€œDad said she’d been there for three days.”
    â€œThat’s odd, considering as I was just saying that she doesn’t drink.” I spoke lightly, hoping Freddy wouldn’t see that I was worried. I was fond of Aunt Lulu and couldn’t believe Uncle Maurice hadn’t got off his rump to go and look for her. She could have taken a knock on the head during a brawl and be wandering the London streets senseless or gone off with the Guinness deliveryman. Or something worse, too terrible to contemplate, might have happened. “What exactly did your father say,