Blue Bedroom and Other Stories Read Free Page A

again.
    Toby wrinkled his nose. “What will I say if Mrs. Sawcombe answers the phone?”
    â€œWell, get Mother to ring him.”
    â€œShe’s too busy and in a hurry because she’s going to see Mrs. Sawcombe after lunch.”
    â€œWhy doesn’t she leave a message for Tom?”
    â€œThat’s what she said she’d do.”
    â€œOh, Toby,” said Vicky, in exasperation, “then what’s all the fuss about?”
    He said, stubbornly, “Mr. Sawcombe always liked to know right away. ”
    Vicky frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with Daisy, is there?” She was as fond of Daisy as Toby was, and now she stopped sounding cross and snappy and spoke in her ordinary nice voice.
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œThen she’ll be all right.” She turned off the switch of the iron and stood it up on its end on the board to cool. “Let’s go down and have lunch. I’m starving.”
    *   *   *
    The sparse clouds of the morning thickened and darkened and after lunch it started to rain. Toby’s mother, wearing a mackintosh and carrying an immense bunch of daffodils, set off in her car to visit Mrs. Sawcombe. Vicky said that she was going to wash her hair. Toby, at a loose end, trailed up to his room, lay on his bed, and started to read a new book he had got from the library. It was all about Arctic explorers, but he hadn’t got beyond the first chapter when he was interrupted by the sound of a car coming up the lane and stopping with a rattle of gravel outside the front door. He laid down his book, got off the bed and went to the window, and saw Tom Sawcombe’s old Land-Rover, and, getting out of it, Tom himself.
    He opened the window, and leaned out. “Hello.”
    Tom stopped and looked upwards. Toby saw his fair curly head, beaded with raindrops; his face brown and his eyes so blue; his thick, rugger-playing shoulders beneath the patched khaki jacket that he wore for work. Beneath this was a pair of faded jeans, knee-length green rubber boots.
    â€œYour mother told me about Daisy. Came up to have a look at her. Is Vicky about?”
    This was surprising. “She’s washing her hair.”
    â€œGo and get her, will you? I’m not sure there’s not another lamb there, and I’ll need help.”
    â€œI’ll help you.”
    â€œI know, boy, but you’re a bit little to hold an old ewe like Daisy. Better get Vicky.”
    Toby pulled his head in from the window and went to do as he was told.
    *   *   *
    He found Vicky in the bathroom, with her head in the basin, rinsing her hair with a rubber shower.
    â€œVicky, Tom’s here.”
    Vicky turned off the taps and straightened up, her pale hair dripping all over her T-shirt. She pushed it out of her face, and her eyes were on Toby’s face.
    â€œTom? What does he want?”
    â€œHe thinks maybe Daisy has another lamb inside her. He says he needs help, and I’m not big enough to hold her.”
    She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her head. “Where is he?”
    â€œDownstairs.”
    Already she was out of the bathroom, running down the landing, down the stairs. Tom was waiting for them, having let himself into the house, as he had always done in the old days before he and Vicky had had their quarrel.
    â€œIf there’s another lamb,” said Vicky, “won’t it be dead by now?”
    â€œWe’ll have to see. Get me a bucket of water, there’s a good girl, and some soap. Bring it down to the field. Come on, Toby, you come with me.”
    Outside, it was now pouring with rain. They went down the lane and crossed the long, wet grass by the rhododendrons, then climbed the fence. Through the downpour, Toby could see Daisy waiting for them. She was on her feet again, sheltering the single lamb, keeping her head towards them. As they approached she made a sound, deep in her