Lillipilly Hill Read Free Page A

and pay for dancing lessons and pantomimes.
    She opened her eyes, and looked out through the door. The sun, nearing its peak, still poured its relentless heat on the tangled garden. But beneath the willow near the side fence, the grass seemed cool and inviting, and beyond the willow and the rocky hill-side lay a whole new world that Harriet had hardly begun to know. Surely ‘home’ was the place where one liked to live?
    â€˜And then would I go to Rugby, after all?’ asked Aidan.
    â€˜Perhaps. We would have to wait and see.’ There was a trace of disappointment in Mr Wilmot’s voice. He was proud of his son’s cleverness, his studious habits, his steady ambition—but now he wanted to find something more than that. Yet how could he expect the boy to understand his father’s feelings about Mount Agnes? Aidan would merely be puzzled to learnthat to Francis Wilmot, giving up his uncle’s property meant the end of a lifelong dream. And that the prospect of returning to book-keeping in the Wilmot family firm was like a vision of slavery.
    â€˜And I could go back to Mrs Christie’s dancing-class,’ said Rose-Ann with satisfaction. ‘And wear my party dress again.’
    â€˜â€œOne-two-three, one-two-three, do try harder, Harriet, dear”,’ Harriet muttered, savagely mimicking Mrs Christie’s ladylike voice.
    â€˜Harriet, you must leave the room if you’re going to be rude,’ said her mother sternly. ‘Mrs Christie tried very hard to make you into a young lady with pretty manners, which is what we want you to be. That is why your father is prepared to take you home to London.’
    â€˜Why can’t I be a young lady here?’ protested Harriet.
    â€˜How would you ever learn? The nearest school for young ladies is in Blackhill, eight miles away—how would you reach it? You can be sure that we have thought of every possibility. And I, for one, will be very pleased when we are all settled at home again. So do try and be a help, Harriet.’
    Harriet lapsed into glum silence. She thought she caught a gleam of sympathy in her father’s expression, but she wasn’t sure.
    â€˜I don’t think there’s much more to be said,’ Mr Wilmot concluded, standing up. ‘I shall go to Blackhill tomorrow and begin arrangements for the sale of the property.’
    Dismissed, the children returned to the garden. But Harriet discovered suddenly that she did not want to talk to the others about her father’s announcement, and set off instead towards the cowshed.
    This time she went by a lengthy and indirect route, in order to avoid passing the windows of the sitting-room, where her father and mother were still talking. She followed the veranda around to the eastern side, past the bedrooms. If the front garden could be called untidy, then the eastern part of the grounds was almost a jungle. A brilliantly purple bougainvillea vine had draped itself over the veranda posts and even invaded the guttering, casting deep shade over the stone flags of the veranda. Near by a struggling grape-vine clung to a lopsided wire trellis—Harriet plucked a few small, black grapes, and shuddered at their sourness. Somewhere among the towering lantanas by the fence was an ornamental pond, once stocked with fish, but now half-choked with weeds, and providing a fertile breeding-ground for mosquitoes.
    Harriet kept to the narrow path, mindful of her mother’s warnings about snakes, and pushed open thegate that led to the back yard. This was really forbidden territory, but to Harriet it was the most interesting part of the property. It was the domain of Polly, the maid-of-all-work, and Boz, the cowman-labourer-gardener. On Harriet’s right, a fence of wooden posts and slackened wire divided the yard from the orchard, which stretched away down the hill-side. Ahead were two tall old mulberry trees, supporting between them an overburdened