No Wings to Fly Read Free

summer. A willing boy, he revelled in doing odd jobs about the place and helping with the stock. He loved to be out in the open air too, added to which, it got him away from his stepmother.
    While Tom loved his time on the farm, for Lily it was only a stopgap. All summer long she looked forward to September, and the day when she would be back at school.
    At fifteen she was no longer an ordinary pupil. Her elementary schooling had ended soon after her thirteenth birthday. However, she had remained on as a pupil teacher, assisting the schoolmistress. She had completed two years of her apprenticeship so far, and had another three years to go, at which time she would herself qualify to seek work as a teacher. She could not wait for that time to come. Then perhaps, if things worked out, she might even gain a scholarship to go to Chelsea in London and study further at Whitelands, the famous school for female teachers. That was in the future, though, for now not even to be dreamt of.
    She opened her eyes. For a moment there she had been in danger of dropping off. At her side Dora was sleeping soundly. Lily waited another minute or two, just to be absolutely sure, then carefully drew herself up. Dora slept on, her little pink mouth slightly open. She would not now waken until the morning.
    After putting on her slippers, Lily crept across the room, stepped out and closed the door behind her. On the small landing she moved to the door opposite and scratched at the wood panel with a fingernail. There was no sound from within. After waiting a few seconds she eased the door open and crept inside.
    Now she could hear his breathing as he lay on his bed. She could see him too. The curtains had not yet been pulled across the window, and the fading light filled the small room with a soft glow. The space was small, and simply furnished. Against the wall opposite the window stood the single bed. The only other furniture in the room was a chest of drawers, a narrow little wardrobe, and a rather rickety chair. She came to a stop on the worn bedside rug, listened for a moment for some acknowledgement of her presence, then whispered, ‘Tom? Tommo, are you all right.’
    He replied then, his voice only just there, in a murmuringwhisper, half stifled by his hand: ‘Go away, Lil. Please. I don’t want to talk to anybody.’
    ‘Tom,’ she murmured, and stepped closer. He was lying on his side, his hand up to his face. His frame looked small on the counterpane. She sat on the edge of the bed and whispered his name again. ‘Tom . . . Tommy?’
    ‘Please, Lil,’ he whispered, ‘I’ll be better if you leave me alone. Besides, you’ll cop it if they find you in ’ere talkin’ to me.’
    ‘They won’t find out,’ she said. ‘Dora went off like a dream, so they won’t expect me down yet. Anyway, they can’t hear us if we keep our voices low.’ She was silent a moment, then she asked, ‘Was it bad, Tommo?’
    He nodded. ‘Like it usually is. She’s never liked me,’ he said, ‘– not from the start. And it’ll never be no different now.’
    Lily knew he was right. Where their stepmother was concerned, there was little that he could ever do to please her.
    ‘I know I shouldn’t have lost my cap,’ Tom said, ‘but it was an accident.’
    ‘Of course it was. I heard you lost your ball too.’
    ‘Yeh. It was only an old pig’s bladder, but it was a good un. I hopped up on the fence to climb over and my cap fell off. And there I was, ’alf way over the fence when old Neville comes out. Course, as soon as he appears, the other boys ’ave gone. You can’t see ’em for dust. I tried to get back but as I did so I slipped. That’s ’ow I tore me jacket.’
    ‘I’ll mend it for you,’ she said. Then she asked, ‘How was work today at the farm?’
    ‘Oh, fine. I enjoy it so much. Mr Meller – he’s so nice.’
    ‘Yes, I know he is. Mrs Meller too.’
    He turned to lie on his back. ‘I wish I was as old as you,’ he said.