And they did. They were so horrible that when they’d propped them on the window-sill with candles in them, Mr Oblinsky, returning from work, almost fainted; and all the children passing by said ‘Cor!’ and stopped to look.
The next day they got up very early, walked to the Common and found the last of the year’s conkers buried under a pile of leaves. When he got back to school, Jeremy didn’t string up the conkers to fight with but kept them in his pockets and weeks later when he took them out he didn’t see them as hard and dry and shrivelled, but as shining and fresh as they had been on that October morning.
For the Christmas holidays, Jeremy was to fly out to Africa.
As the time drew near he became almost demented with excitement. Three weeks, two weeks, one week – and then he would see her. His mother…
The suitcases were packed; the grey-suited, ecstatic little boys were hurling themselves into their parents’ cars – when the telegram came.
A garbled telegram but one thing was clear. There had been some political trouble in the copper mines. Rioting had broken out in the villages and Jeremy was not to go.
He sat hunched on his suitcase, his legs dangling over the bright airline labels, and listened politely while this was explained to him, and even the arrow-swift boys running through the hall to their Christmas freedom stopped when they saw his face.
‘Where shall I go then?’ he said at last in his mouse of a voice. ‘Where shall I spend Christmas?’
Matron peered again at the telegram, which had undergone some strange sea-changes in its journey from the dry and dusty plains of Central Africa. ‘Wait a minute,’ she said, ‘I’ll go and talk to Mr Danworth.’
When she came back from the headmaster’s study she was brisk and decisive. ‘It’s all settled, Jeremy, and there’s nothing to worry about. You’re to go to your grandmother’s. To Mrs Tate-Oxenham’s. There’s lots to see in London at Christmas; she’ll give you a lovely time. We’ve sent a telegram and Mr Danworth is sending you up in his own car with Ted to drive you,’ continued Matron – and all but bundled him out, because there was something in his eyes she preferred at that festive season not to see.
The Head’s car was not as bad as Grandmother’s and Ted – who acted as boilerman, groundsman and general factotum at the school – was a more approachable character than Clarke. All the same, to Jeremy, sitting wraith-like and silent beside Ted, the inevitable happened soon enough.
‘Please could you stop the car?’ he asked.
Outside it was freezing cold with a gusty, boisterous wind straight off the snow-spattered hills. First it shook Jeremy, his teeth chattering with cold and nausea and despair. Then it blew through the car and scattered the papers on the dashboard …
‘Darn it! I’ve lost the address,’ said Ted when they had driven on again. ‘Your grandma’s address. Must have blown away when we stopped back there. You remember it?’
‘I’ve got two grandmothers,’ said Jeremy, his voice almost inaudible.
‘Well, the one we’re going to, silly.’ Searching his mind for what he had overheard in the school office, Ted elaborated. ‘The rich one. The one who’s going to give you a lovely time.’
A slight tremor ran through Jeremy’s skinny frame.
‘The rich one?’ he repeated wonderingly. ‘Are you sure I’m going to the rich one?’
‘Well, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t want to bother the other one, not at Christmas time?’
Something had happened to Jeremy, something which made Ted turn his head for a second and give him a puzzled look.
‘Oh, yes, I know the address of the rich one,’ said Jeremy, his voice suddenly loud and strong. ‘ I know the address of her all right.’
And so it was that Nana, sitting quietly by the window and foolishly imagining, as people will at Christmas time, that the person they love best will somehow defy space and time and come to them – looked up, and gasped and saw that it had happened. That Jeremy was running towards her into the house …
Copyright
First published in 1984 by Century
This edition published 2014 by Bello
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.co.uk/bello
ISBN 978-1-4472-6652-5 EPUB
Copyright © Eva Ibbotson, 1984
The right of Eva Ibbotson to be identified as the
author of this work has been asserted in accordance
with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Every effort has been made to contact the copyright holders of the material
reproduced in this book. If any have been inadvertently overlooked, the publisher
will be pleased to make restitution at the earliest opportunity.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise
make available this publication ( or any part of it) in any form, or by any means
(electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise),
without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does
any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to
criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The Macmillan Group has no responsibility for the information provided by
any author websites whose address you obtain from this book (‘author websites’).
The inclusion of author website addresses in this book does not constitute
an endorsement by or association with us of such sites or the content,
products, advertising or other materials presented on such sites.
This book remains true to the original in every way. Some aspects may appear
out-of-date to modern-day readers. Bello makes no apology for this, as to retrospectively
change any content would be anachronistic and undermine the authenticity of the original.
Bello has no responsibility for the content of the material in this book. The opinions
expressed are those of the author and do not constitute an endorsement by,
or association with, us of the characterization and content.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books
and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and
news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters
so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.
Eva Ibbotson, A Glove Shop in Vienna and Other Stories
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends