The Owl Service - Alan Garner

Скачать книгу

      “What? Oh. Ha ha,” said Clive.

      “I don’t know why she was going on like that,” said Alison, “and I didn’t see it had anything to do with her. Gwyn found some of those plates in the loft, and she came storming up as if she owned the place.”

      “Yes. Well. Old Nance, eh? You know—”

      “But she went berserk, Clive!”

      “Too true. We had a basinful when we came home, I’ll tell you! Your mother’s very upset. She says you ought to – oh well, skip it.”

      “But it’s my house, isn’t it?” said Alison.

      “Ah yes.”

      “Well then.”

      “It’s a bit dodgy. If your father hadn’t turned it over to you before he died your mother would’ve had to sell this house to clear the death duties. Morbid, but there it is.”

      “But it’s still my house,” said Alison. “And I don’t have to take orders from my cook.”

      “Fair dos,” said Clive. “Think of your mother. It was hard enough to get someone to live in all summer. If Nance swept out we’d never find a replacement, and your mother would have to cope by herself. She’d be very upset. And it is the first time we’ve all been together – as a family, and – and – you know?”

      “Yes, Clive. I suppose so.”

      “That’s my girl. Now eat your supper. – Hello: sounds as if we’ve mice in the roof.”

      “Don’t wait, Clive,” said Alison. “I’m not hungry. I’ll eat this later, and bring the tray down in the morning. Tell Mummy not to worry.”

      “That’s my girl. God bless.”

       CHAPTER 4

      “And the room was so cold,” said Roger. “It was like being in a deepfreeze. But it was the noise that was worst. I thought the ceiling was coming in. And there were scratchings going on round her bed, too, on the wall and then on the iron and her supper tray – you could tell the difference. Is that what you heard when you went up the loft?”

      “No, not as bad,” said Gwyn. “But she said it was getting louder. What did you do, man?”

      “I called her, but she was fast asleep.”

      “What time was it?”

      “About one o’clock,” said Roger. “You know how hot it was last night – I couldn’t sleep, and I kept hearing this noise. I thought she was having a nightmare, and then I thought perhaps she was ill, so I went up.”

      “The noise was in the loft? You’re sure?”

      “Positive. It was something sharpening its claws on the joists, or trying to get out, and either way it wasn’t funny.”

      “You’re absolutely certain it couldn’t have been rats?”

      “I don’t know what it was,” said Roger, “but it sounded big.”

      “How big?”

      “Big enough.”

      “Then what?”

      “Nothing – I funked out,” said Roger. “I couldn’t stand it.”

      “How is she this morning?”

      “She was all right at breakfast, a bit queasy, but that’s all.”

      “Where is she now?”

      “She said she was going to find her paper owls. She’s obsessed with those futile birds.”

      “Them off the plates?” said Gwyn.

      “Yes. Do you know how they got into the loft?”

      “My Mam won’t say anything about them – nothing that sticks together: she’s that mad. And the switch Alison put across her! By! It’s making her talk like a Welsh Nationalist!”

      “Ali says she didn’t switch the plate.”

      “Pull the other,” said Gwyn. “It’s got bells on.”

      “That’s what I said to her yesterday. But she didn’t switch.”

      “Ring-a-ding-a-ding,” said Gwyn.

      “Listen. I fetched two more down from the loft, and when I went into Ali’s bedroom last night they were on the mantelpiece. The pattern’s gone.”

      “How did you know?” said Alison. She stood at the door of the billiard-room with the plates in her hand. “I was coming to show you.”

      “Er – I thought I heard you having a bad dream last night,” said Roger, “so I popped in. The plates were on the mantelpiece.”

      “Yes: they’re the same, aren’t they?” said Gwyn. “Well now, there’s a thing.”

      “How can it happen?” said Alison. “Is it tracing the owls that makes the plates go blank?”

      “What did you use?” said Roger. “Pumice?”

      “Let’s see the owls,” said Gwyn.

      “I haven’t any.”

      “What?” said Roger. “You’ve done nothing else but make owls.”

      “They keep disappearing.”

      “This is ridiculous,” said Gwyn.

      “Has your mother said anything?” said Alison.

      “Not that can be repeated: except she’s made it a condition of staying that the loft’s nailed up permanent.”

      “Today?”

      “Now there she’s hoist by her own petard, like. It’s stupid. She won’t let Huw Halfbacon in the house.”

      “What does she have against him?” said Alison.

      “Search me,” said Gwyn. “Anyway, I measure the hatch, then Huw makes a cover, and I nail it up. We can spin that out till tomorrow between us. Plenty of time to bring the plates down, isn’t it?”

      “How about leaving them where they are?” said Roger.

      “We can’t,” said Alison. “I must make some owls.”

      Roger shrugged.

      “We’ll have to be a bit crafty,” said Gwyn. “Mam’s propped the kitchen door open. She’d hear us easy if we tried to carry them down.”

      “That woman!” cried Alison. “She’s impossible!”

      “I know what you mean, Miss Alison,” said Gwyn.

      There was a scream from the kitchen.

      “That’s Mam!” said Gwyn, and they looked out of the billiard-room. Nancy appeared at the outside door of the larder with a broken plate in her hands.

      “Oh!” she shouted. “Oh! Throwing plates now, are you? That’s it! That’s it! That’s it, Miss! That’s it!”

      “What’s the matter?” said Alison.

      “Don’t come that with me, Miss! I know better! So sweet and innocent you are! I know! Spite and malice it is!”

      “What’s the matter?” shouted Roger.

      “I know my place,” said Nancy. “And she should know hers. I was not engaged to be thrown at! To be made mock of – and dangerous too! Spite, Miss Alison! I’m not stopping here!”

      “It was me,”

Скачать книгу