Free Long Lankin by Lindsey Barraclough Page B

belong to me. Mimi was shrieking. I just caught sight of Roger and Pete in the doorway with their mouths hanging open.
    I reached up and got hold of the top of the big table with my shaky hands and managed to pull myself up to standing, but my legs were trembling and I couldn’t let go.
    I didn’t want to look at Auntie Ida, but she slammed her two great fists down from the other side of the table and leaned all the way over so her face was right in mine. I could feel her breath and smell tea. Tears were coming down my cheeks in two hot streams.
    “I
told
you!” she shouted. “Never —
ever
— to go down to the church! You don’t know what you’ve done — you stupid,
stupid
girl! How
dare
you! How
dare
you! How could you ever —
ever
— leave that child on her own! How
could
you!
You don’t know what you’ve done!
”
    Then, through the blur, I saw that her eyes had gone down to my skirt. She snatched something out of my pocket. It was the letter to Dad. She made a horrible noise through her teeth and twisted the envelope so tightly in her hands that it almost ripped.

    Mrs. Eastfield headed for Pete and me. I thought she was going to belt us, too.
    “And you!” she yelled. “I’ll make sure your mother knows about this! Be sure I will!”
    Storming between us, she pushed us aside so hard that Pete’s head flew back and banged on the door frame with a clunk. He moaned, staggered slightly, then looked up at me with watery eyes, spilling over into tears.
    “I — want — my — mum,” Cora sobbed in a small voice.
    I just didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could think of was to get us all home as fast as possible, but I’d have to confess to Mum about going down to the church. It would be much, much worse if she heard it first from Mrs. Eastfield.
    So I had to find Mrs. Eastfield to ask her, but it was the last thing I wanted to do in all the world. She’d gone off down the hall past the big stairs, so I went after her, but every room I tried was locked. The big thick door at the end of the hall was the only one that gave when I pushed. When I peeped in, somebody said,
“Hello.”
It was a real live parrot in a cage.
    Mrs. Eastfield was sitting hunched up in the corner of an old red settee, kneading a handkerchief in her hands. She looked up, and her eyes were red and wet. I stared down at the floor.
    “Mrs. Eastfield —” I swallowed. “Would it possibly be all right if Cora and Mimi came up to my house for a bit? I absolutely promise we won’t go down the church again. I’m really, really sorry. It”— and I took a deep breath —“it was my fault, and Pete’s. We’ll take them in the woods and over the Patches next time. Honest. We won’t do it again.”
    “Do what you like,” she said quietly, wiping her nose on the hankie. “I don’t care.”
    “I’ll post that letter. I absolutely promise I’ll post it at Mrs. Wickerby’s. You can ask her if we bought the stamp. I promise. Honestly. Hope to die. Cross my heart.”
    She turned and held out the creased letter without even looking at me. “Do what you like,” she said again. “It’s too late anyway. . . .”
    It was a bit of a miserable walk down the Chase, I have to say, with all of them snivelling.
    “Dad walloped us the other day, didn’t he, Pete, for fighting,” I said, doing my best to make Cora feel better.
    “That was your fault.” Pete sniffed. “You know that green engine’s always been mine. Auntie Barbara gave it to me.”
    “Rubbish!”
    “She did!” He stopped dead in the road, his hands curling into fists.
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you can keep the blimmin’ thing.” I tossed my hand in the air at him, then turned back to Cora. “Sister Laserian at school’s the worst for hitting,” I said. “She’s got this special stick. It’s this thick.” I held my thumb and first finger at least two inches apart.
    “No, Sister Camillus is the worst,” said Pete. “She whacks you with her