Frozen Billy Read Free Page B

even raise his head. ‘Why should I worry Mother with Uncle Len’s bad moods?’
    His pen scratched on, leaving a trail of blots across the paper.
    I couldn’t help it. The words burst out of me. ‘His moods are almost every day now. And they’re getting worse .’
    Will kept on writing, but he answered me. ‘That’s because things are going badly again at the theatre.’
    â€˜But he makes Frozen Billy move and talk like a real boy. And no one sees his lips move.’
    My brother shook his head. ‘It’s what Madame Terrazini said. It’s the patter.’
    I pointed to the letter Will was writing. ‘That’s all made up. You can write anything. Can’t you help Uncle Len invent a new patter?’
    He shrugged me off. ‘How would I know what people want to hear? I’ve never even been in a music hall.’
    â€˜You could always make Mother and Father laugh. And me. And Uncle Len.’
    â€˜That’s different. That’s easy.’
    â€˜But you could try . And then perhaps I wouldn’t have to be called Lady Muck-on-Toast simply for tying on my own hat!’
    And I burst into tears.
    Will shifted from his chair to the one at my side, and patted my arm. ‘Now, now,’ he soothed, the very same way Father used to do whenever I cried.
    It made the tears fall faster. So you could say that everything that followed was my fault. If I’d not wept so hard, my loving brother would have simply kept on with his letter. I would have blacked the grate. And none of the rest of the story would be worth telling.
    But I sat and cried.

The Third Notebook

S o that’s how it came about that Uncle Len pushed open the door that night after another restless, cat-calling audience at the theatre, and caught me dashing tears from my eyes.
    Tears of amusement.
    For Will had perched himself on the chair at the end of the table. He sat stiffly, tipping his head from one side to the other in the same way that Uncle Len makes Frozen Billy’s head move when he’s asking him a question. And Will had somehow made his mouth look big and square, and his eyes round and marble hard, like the dummy’s. And he’d been telling me, in the strange, cocky voice we think of as Frozen Billy’s, what that rapscallion Will had been up to at school today.
    Waving a stiff hand, he welcomed Uncle Len into the room. ‘Step in. Step in and warm yourself beside the fire while Miss Clarissa here makes you a reviving mug of finest cocoa.’
    Uncle Len fell in the spirit of things right away. ‘Good evening, young Billy. And what’s new with you?’
    â€˜New? New? What would I know about new? Is this a new jacket?’ Without unstiffening his fingers, Will made a plucking move towards his other sleeve, just like the dummy would. ‘Are these new trousers? Did you buy me a new cap? No. It seems the only new thing I’m going to get is a new patter. And that’s free .’

    Uncle Len hooted with amusement, then tapped me on the arm. ‘Don’t miss this, Clarrie!’ He turned back to Will. ‘So it’s a complaint I’m hearing, is it?’
    â€˜It most certainly is,’ Will said in Frozen Billy’s voice. ‘In fact, if you don’t treat me better, I’m going to run away.’
    â€˜Run away, little man? Where to?’
    Will cocked his head on one side, as though thinking. ‘Let me see . . .’
    And off they went again, with Uncle Len as glad as Will to keep the game going. He knew better than anyone how much time Will and I had spent over the years, watching him and listening to him practise. But still he seemed astonished that Will was able to ape Frozen Billy’s voice with such swift skill.
    â€˜So you’ll be a whole lot kinder to me in future?’
    â€˜I most certainly will, young Billy.’
    â€˜Cross your heart and hope to die?’
    â€˜Cross my