Steffan Green by Richmal Crompton

Author:Richmal Crompton [Richmal Crompton]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Nine

A FLASH of blue and red crossed the path between the overhanging trees. “Twi – twi – twi.”

Lavinia stopped abruptly and laid her hand on Colin’s arm.

“A stone-chat,” she whispered. “It’s long past its bedtime. We must have disturbed it, and – Oh, look!”

With a rustle of undergrowth, a young rabbit appeared, stared at them unconcernedly, then lolloped along the path in front of them.

“Isn’t he lovely! He’s not a bit afraid of us.”

Colin looked at the creature without seeing it. He was conscious only of Lavinia, her lips parted eagerly, her eyes fixed on the rabbit as it disappeared again into the undergrowth. She had the loveliest lips he’d ever seen. When they weren’t smiling they drooped wistfully at the corners. When she smiled, the short upper lip lifted exquisitely, but always there was that suggestion of wistfulness. . . . She turned suddenly and met his eyes . . . then quickly looked away. They began to walk on.

“When Thea and I were little we used to pretend that we were princesses and that the birds were our pages,” she said. “The thrushes and blackbirds were hers, and the robins and chaffinches were mine. We quarrelled about the skylarks, because we both wanted them. When they flew up into the air we used to pretend that they were going on messages for us. . . . We used to pretend that we understood what they said.” She spoke quickly, nervously, as if she were afraid – not of him, but of what she had seen in his eyes in that brief instant when they met hers. “I love birds, but I wish that the people who call themselves bird lovers weren’t always so dreadful . . . like Miss Lennare. . . .”

Her mind went back over the day. It had been perfect except for that one episode. She shrank from the memory of that witch-like figure leaning over the gate of Pear Tree Cottages, mouthing obscenities. Colin was looking at her again. The dim light emphasised her air of fragility. He noticed that her coat was shabby and that she had outgrown it. It was stretched tightly across her chest and frayed at the cuffs. His heart yearned over her with an unbearable tenderness.

“Look at the moon,” she said. “Can’t you see the man in it plainly tonight? Used you to talk to him when you were a little boy?”

“No,” said Colin.

“I thought everyone did,” she said. “He always seemed to come and comfort me the nights Gran had been cross with me. . . . What were you like when you were a little boy?”

“I don’t know. . . .”

“I used to see you in church with everyone else every Sunday, and then, the night that Thea and I ran into you, you suddenly seemed to turn into a real person. You must have thought us dreadfully rude.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“When you were a little boy, I suppose you used to come into these woods. Perhaps I’ve seen you here.

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