Mavis Belfrage Read Free Page B

muttered Bill and returned to her side.
    â€œColin’s the one to thank,” said Gordon. “He bought it for you.”
    â€œThanks,” Bill told Colin who murmured, “Don’t mention it. I have lots of money.”
    â€œWell sit down sit down,” said Gordon rubbing his hands together. “Tea Mavis?”
    â€œTo be frank … I can’t stand tea.”
    â€œCoffee?”
    â€œIf it’s no trouble.”
    â€œWhite, brown or black?”
    â€œWhichever’s the least trouble – I mean black.”
    â€œSure you wouldn’t like white?”
    â€œQuite sure.”
    â€œWhat about you, Bill? Lemonade?”
    Bill said, “Coffee. Black, please.”
    â€œPull yourself together Bill,” whispered Mavis.
    â€œLemonade then. No, tea. I can’t stand lemonade.”
    â€œOne black coffee and three teas coming up,” said Gordon and left the room. No one had sat down.
    Mavis turned to Colin and said, “I shouldn’t be here.”
    â€œYes you should.”
    â€œWhy does your dad act as if the house is his when it’s mostly yours?”
    â€œForce of habit. He’s trying to make you feel at home.”
    â€œI wish he would stop.”
    â€œYou’ll come to like him – he’s a very good man.”
    She took the cigarette case from her shoulder bag, opened it, stared at a single cigarette and said, “God I’m nearly out.”
    â€œNo, you’re not,” said Colin, taking a pack of twenty from his pocket and dropping it in her bag. She nodded, lit up, inhaled, exhaled then said pathetically, “Colin love me a little?”
    He embraced her. She offered her mouth. Before their lips touched Bill shouted, “Mum! Come here!”
    He had wandered to the end of the room and was out of sight round a corner. Mavis grimaced and went after him. Colin followed more slowly.
    The room was L-shaped. Round a corner stood a dining-table upholding an architecture of small blue, yellow and white plastic bricks, a central part nearly touching the ceiling. The general form suggested a blend of Babylonian ziggurat, Roman Colosseum, Edinburgh Castle and Manhattan Island. Bill hurried round it stooping to keek through openings and standing on tiptoe to peer over barriers.
    â€œWhat’s this?” demanded Mavis.
    â€œMy hobby,” said Colin meekly.
    â€œWhat
is
it Colin?” asked Bill.
    â€œIt began as a city with a castle inside. I was so keen to make a really safe city that now most of the castle goesround the edge. It’s not finished – I’m still working on it.”
    â€œYou can’t make a city safe nowadays!” cried Bill Belfrage scornfully. “One intercontinental ballistic missile will smash any castle in the world into little tiny radioactive bits.”
    â€œMy city,” said Colin regarding it with satisfaction, “is on a planet where they haven’t learned to split the atom. They have no aeroplanes either. Or motor cars.”
    â€œWhy isn’t it finished?”
    â€œI’m not satisfied by the position of the windmills.”
    Colin flicked a switch at the table edge. Little propellers began whirling on turret-tops round the outer walls.
    â€œThey look lovely!” cried Mavis. While surveying this large toy she had relaxed, become jaunty, was smoking now with total indifference to where the ash fell.
    â€œThey
look
all right,” admitted Colin, “but a besieging army could destroy them with gunfire and then the city would lose light and heat. The windmills drive its generators.”
    He flicked another switch and light glowed behind a myriad of windows in the central towers.
    â€œHow can a planet have electricity without cars and aeroplanes?” cried Bill, shocked into indignation.
    â€œYou must work that out for yourself,” said Colin, “but I’ll give a clue. Their ships and locomotives are driven by