Patrick Parker's Progress Read Free Page B

reason, when they visited London, Patrick seemed to find Little Audrey fascinating - he liked to push at her and see her topple and then watch, smiling, as she righted herself, laughing and scarlet from the exertion among the cushions. He liked to pull her bottle in and out of her mouth and hear the sucking sound of the air and bubbles rushing back into the teat. Throughout it all, Little Audrey was entirely good-humoured. Florence did not like these games at all. But if she ever tried to change the mood - with a clapping song or 'Come to Mother ...' Patrick paid no attentio n. Until he was ready. And then he would say so, loudly. 'Patrick stop now,' he would say, nodding sagely. And that would brook no nonsense. Florence would reclaim her prize. She swung him up in the air telling him he should go higher than the highest he had ever been before. 'You'll be something, my boy,' she would mutter. 'Not like the likes of Little Audrey. You'll look down on them all -'
    Coventry remained a wasteland. On one of her visits Dolly said, 'You'd have thought they'd start rebuilding this place, Flo - it's no setting for bringing up a kiddie.'
    'Oh,' said Florence. "They keep talking about doing this and that but nothing ever happens. If anyone does produce an idea then the Council can't make up its mind.'
    'Your George should go along with some of his models.'
    Florence just sniffed.
    Dolly whispered the question. 'Still Lilly, then?' To which Florence just sniffed the louder.
    Little Audrey liked to watch as Florence bathed and caressed and spoke to her baby boy. She watched the games and the rituals as Patrick meticulously put brick upon brick without knocking them down. 'Mother's little builder,' Florence would say, or 'Who's Mummy's clever boy, then?' Little Audrey saw that George looked on but said nothing. And that he built the boy things that Florence brushed aside. The general view of Patrick's great talent with the bricks was that he would one day grow up to rebuild Coventry, probably single-handedly, and be the wonder of the world. Little Audrey smiled and clapped as the bricks went higher but she was never allowed to touch. Once, overcome at the great height of the tower of coloured wood Patrick had made, she tottered over and gave it a mighty, satisfying punch and the bricks went everywhere. Patrick looked at her coldly and rebuilt his tower. He ignored her for the rest of the afternoon. She did not do it again.
    But Little Audrey showed she had some tricks of her own. As soon as Patrick saw how she sat up at the table and made use of a spoon all on her own - with a few spillages which Florence made quite a bustling fuss about - Patrick followed suit. Perfectly. He also asked for another cushion. Little Audrey sat on one, he would sit on two. When his mother tried to help him guide his spoon, he pushed away her hand. His first act of extreme independence and Florence was saddened to the core.
    When Dolly came to stay, or when Florence visited London, the children were given their baths together. Florence did not like it and objected. 'There's a war on,' said Dolly firmly. 'Economy is important.' So here it was, in that warm, soap-scented water, that Florence told Patrick - and Little Audrey - all over again about the night of his birth and how he had escaped, that he was a miracle baby, that out of destruction he had been born. 'How clever you are,' said his mother, over and over again, as she watched his dexterous play with sponge and nailbrush and flannel. 'Clever, clever, clever boy.' When he had done with the play he drew steeples and roofs and chimney stacks in the steam on the mirror. It was all she could do to persuade him that he could not take his beloved wooden bricks into the bath.
    Little Audrey watched. She was fascinated and repelled at this sweet talk. But she saw how it pleased Patrick. She also came to recognise the moment just before Patrick decided that he had had enough and required lifting out of the water