DISHONOUR. Jacqui Rose

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and although he’d never heard his Father raise his voice or seen him lose his temper, there was something in the way he spoke, something which warned Arnold and made him afraid to ever dare to come home covered in dirt. He didn’t want to break the rules.

       Arnold watched his sister stand on her tiptoes as their father bent down slightly to receive a goodbye kiss. He then turned to Arnold and reached out his hand for his son to shake it. ‘Have a good time children. And remember what I said.’

       ‘Fiddlesticks.’

       ‘What is it Arnie?’ His sister looked at him with soft big eyes and a mop of honey-blonde hair. He loved that she called him Arnie. She was the only one, and she only ever did it in secret when their father wasn’t listening.

       ‘I’ve forgotten our damn sandwiches, we’ll have to go back and get them.’

       ‘No Arnie, I’m too tired to go all the way back, you go.’

       ‘Then if you’re too tired to walk, you’ll be too tired to eat, so I’ll only bring mine.’ His sister looked at him before her cheeks flushed red with anger, which always made Arnold laugh; she had such a quick temper.

       ‘Arnold Wainwright, you’ll get my sandwiches for me or I’ll tell Pappy you said damn.’

       ‘You’ll do no such thing and if you do, I’ll tell him you call me Arnie.’

       His sister, who was three years younger than him and four inches smaller than him, swung her fist violently. Arnold ducked out of the way and laughed, making his sister angrier.

       ‘Tell me you’ll get my sandwiches for me Arnie, tell me.’

       ‘Yes all right, I’ll get them, I was only teasing. Wait here for me. I won’t be long. Now, where’s my goodbye kiss?’ Arnold stretched his arms wide open and put out his cheek, expecting the loving kiss his sister always gave him; the only bit of affection he got.

       ‘I shan’t give you a kiss Arnold, I shan’t.’

       ‘Well I’ll give you one then.’ He bent forward but his sister darted away, still annoyed at her brother’s teasing.

       Sighing, Arnold started to walk back through the woods towards the house, stopping for a brief moment as his sister shouted out to him.

       ‘Arnie?’

       ‘Yes?’

       ‘Do you still love me more than life itself?’ Arnold smiled before he replied to his sister, whose face was lit up with eagerness.

       ‘Yes. Yes Izzy, I do.’

       Arnold ran as fast as he could back to the house to get the sandwiches he’d forgotten. The grass made him feel as if he was springing along as he bounded down the hill towards the isolated house. The River Coquet ran alongside and though it looked particularly turbulent today, hungrily sweeping along broken branches and leaves, many a summer had been spent paddling in the shallow part of the river, followed by a desperate attempt to dry out their clothes before returning back home.

       As he ran he thought about Izzy. He hated it when she was angry with him. Hopefully when he got back she would cheer up and be his friend again. As long as he had Izzy he didn’t need anyone else and hopefully neither did she.

       Approaching the house, Arnold was cautious to check his clothing, making certain no stray piece of mud or grass had surreptitiously got onto his trousers.

       The large wooden front door creaked open. Standing in the entrance hall, Arnold contemplated going straight into the kitchen to pick up the lunch he’d left on the side and hoped his father hadn’t heard the door. But then it would mean breaking rules and he was loath to do that; even for Izzy.

       The mahogany stairs leading up to his father’s office were highly polished, as was the rest of the house; pristine, with nothing out of place. Pictures of unknown relatives stared out from their gilded frames and the gold ornate wallpaper gave a feeling of formality to the high-ceilinged hall.

       The mock-crystal candelabra with the glass droplets was in the exact same place, turned the exact same way it always was and Arnold was careful not to go anywhere near it as he passed, recollecting what had happened last year.

       It was a simple mistake. An unintentional one when he’d run past the decorative candelabra, trying to get to his room before his father had finished counting to ten, being warned but not knowing what would happen if he didn’t make it to his bedroom by the end of the countdown.

       He’d been aware of knocking it slightly, but he hadn’t thought anything else about it, until his father had come into his room in the middle of the night. Waking him up, suppressed rage in his voice, sweat dripping down his forehead, wanting to know who’d smashed the light. His father had dragged him out of bed and along the corridor to look at the candelabra.

       ‘Look at that Arnold, look at it. I didn’t know I lived with vandals.’ Arnold had looked, but hadn’t seen anything different. The candelabra still stood in centre place on the carved red wood table and the glass droplets gleamed as much as they always did.

       His father had leaned into his face, punctuating each of his words as he spoke. ‘It’s. Been. Moved. Arnold.’ The fear Arnold had experienced only allowed him to mutter two words before he’d wet himself.

       ‘Sorry Papa.’

       ‘Well Arnold, you know what happens to boys who destroy people’s things. They have their own things destroyed.’

       His father had then spent the next two hours quietly breaking all of Arnold’s treasured possessions which, in the absence of any toys, were made out of things Arnold had collected and found in the woods for him and Izzy to play with. The origami birds he’d made which Izzy loved. The pictures he’d painted at school and the stories he’d written for her to read up in the woods were cut up with a shiny pair of scissors, along with anything else Arnold held as valuable.

       Clearing his thoughts of that night, Arnold stood outside his father’s office, hoping his Father would open the door straight away and let him get the sandwiches to take back to Izzy. He was aware his hand was shaking as he knocked lightly on the panelled door. A voice came from inside.

       ‘Yes?’

       ‘Papa, it’s Arnold.’

       ‘I thought I told you to go to the woods son.’ Pushing himself further against the thick door, Arnold spoke again, hoping his father wouldn’t think he was shouting, but at the same time needing to be close enough to hear him, as his father never repeated anything twice.

       ‘We did go to the woods but I forgot the sandwiches Papa.’ The long silent pause was exaggerated by the solemn ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall below. Eventually the door was opened and Arnold jumped СКАЧАТЬ