Eight Days of Luke Read Free Page B

keep out of sight. There was a tall hedge there. Behind the hedge was a steamy compost heap with baby marrows growing on it and a spade stuck in the compost, and a strip of gravelly ground where Cousin Ronald always meant to have a carpentry shed. Beyond that was the high brick wall that ended the garden.
    There David sat, with his back against the compost heap and the radio among the marrow plants, and spent the kind of morning most people would rather not spend. It got very hot in the sun, and David was able to take off the fawn ballet-skirt sweater for an hour or so; but the gravelly space was quite without interest. David saw forty-two birds and listened to the morning service, a review of records, a concert and to someone promising to tell him about sport in the afternoon. Then the dinner gong went, and he had to hurry to put the radio back so that Cousin Ronald could hear the news during lunch.
    Lunch produced a scene far worse than the night before. It started with Aunt Dot coming in, followed by Mrs. Thirsk, followed by Astrid.
    Mrs. Thirsk was saying: “And you may ask him why there was no toast, but what I want to know is why was there marmalade all over my clean tablecloth.”
    â€œYes indeed,” said Aunt Dot, and she turned ominously to David. “David,” she said, and then—though this was clearly not what she had been going to say—“Good gracious! Whose clothes are you wearing?”
    â€œCousin Ronald’s,” said David, very much ashamed, but also rather glad of the diversion.
    â€œGood gracious!” said Aunt Dot again.
    Before she could begin on the tablecloth, Astrid sniffed piercingly and asked in her most complaining way: “Whatever is this dreadful smell?”
    This made Aunt Dot pause and sniff too. “You’re right,” she said. “There is a most peculiar smell.” To David’s secret pleasure, both she and Astrid looked accusingly at Mrs. Thirsk. David felt it confirmed his theory about the human sense of smell.
    Mrs. Thirsk backed to the door. “I’ll go and fetch lunch, Mrs. Price,” she said primly, and made off.
    â€œDavid—” began Aunt Dot, but this time it was Uncle Bernard who interrupted by tottering in and saying, in his most failing voice:
    â€œWhat is producing this vile smell, my dear?”
    â€œWe don’t know,” said Astrid.
    â€œDavid—” Aunt Dot began for the third time.
    But Cousin Ronald bustled in with a sheaf of papers in his hand and hurried over to the radio. “Quiet, please. I must hear the news.” He reached out to switch on the radio, gave a throttled sort of shout, and dropped his papers. “What’s this? Where has this radio been ? Look! Look at it!” He picked it up in both trembling hands. A cloud of green and blue flies rose with it, flatly buzzing. Then, to David’s acute dismay, a wad of brown smelly stuff gently detached itself from the base of the radio and sank on to the sideboard. It was followed by another. The flies sank after both wads, as if they were relieved to see them.
    There was a nasty silence. Then all four of David’s relations turned to look at him. “David!” they said, with one voice. After that, they said a great deal more. Lunch was held up while they said it, and then held up further while David took the radio and the wads of compost outside and some of the flies went with him. But most of the flies were of the opinion that the compost was still on the sideboard somewhere, and they stayed to look for it, maddening everyone, throughout lunch.
    By the time David returned to the dining room, Mrs. Thirsk, as if she were trying to prove David’s point, had served up thin gray meat in thin gray gravy and everyone else had started to eat it. David started to eat it too, wishing it could be magically transformed into fish and chips, and discovered that the rest of them were discussing the important