Cuckoo in the Nest. Michelle Magorian

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СКАЧАТЬ Master Hollis. I haven’t the time nor the energy to check that people are doing what I ask. When someone says they’ll do something, I expect them to do it. I’ve had enough of encouraging people to get on with it. Now Master Hollis, are you a doer ?’

      Ralph nodded again.

      ‘Another silent type, eh? How wearisome.’ She began marching up and down the carpet as if a thorn had found its way into her clothes and was sticking into her. ‘Hollis! Hollis! Hollis!’ she muttered. ‘Doesn’t sound very Cornish to me. Is it Cornish?’

      Ralph shook his head.

      She stared at him. ‘Well!’ She paused. ‘Elucidate.’

      Goodbye job, thought Ralph. Still it was only his first interview. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m from round here actually. But I was evacuated to Cornwall during the war. I put on the accent because I knew you wouldn’t interview me otherwise. And if you’re worried about me not being physically able to cope, I must point out that I worked on local farms in my school vacations.’

      Her jaw dropped. ‘You little fraud!’ she roared. ‘This isn’t some Saturday job for a middle class schoolboy. Now clear out of here and don’t waste my time!’

      ‘I’m not a schoolboy. I had a job until yesterday when I was told I was over-qualified. In fact I might as well lay all my cards on the table. I have School Cert. And I didn’t get it by sucking eggs and counting clouds out of the window. It was hard work.’

      ‘Got quite a little temper, haven’t we, Master Hollis.’

      ‘Yes, we have, Mrs Egerton-Smythe!’

      She pursed her lips. ‘Well I’m afraid holiday harvesting is not required here. You’ve been reading too much . . .’ She waved her hand as if searching for the right name.

      ‘A.G. Street?’ he suggested.

      He could see that he had guessed right, but it was obvious he had little chance of a job. ‘If you want me,’ he stated firmly, ‘which I doubt, you can tell me what you want me to do. If I don’t know how to do it, I’ll find a way of doing it. I’m not witless, you know.’

      ‘Are you playing truant?’ she demanded.

      ‘No. I told you. Yesterday I was sacked from the paper-mill. If you don’t believe me you can contact them. I’m sure they’ll send you the worst letter of recommendation you’re ever likely to read.’

      ‘Paper-mill?’ she exclaimed. ‘What the hell were you doing at a paper-mill?’

      ‘My father took me out of school and got me a job there.’

      ‘He’s a bloody manager, isn’t he? Is this some kind of character-building experiment?’

      ‘No,’ said Ralph wearily. ‘Look, I need a job, but I want it on my terms now. I’m not spending any more time pretending I’m something I’m not.’

      The faintest flicker of amusement passed her eyes. ‘Oh, lucky you. You know who you are, eh?’

      Ralph opened his mouth, and then to his astonishment he burst out laughing. The woman strode across the room to a long velvet cord which she pulled. And Ralph couldn’t stop himself. It was as if the last four months of awfulness had finally taken their toll. He knew she was calling for the maid to take him back to the kitchen and out. And he was beyond caring. He had no job and he had ruined his first interview for one. He hadn’t had a conversation about any of the things he loved, like plays or the theatre or books or ideas, for months. His brain was atrophying and now he suspected he might be going insane. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

      The door opened and Queenie entered.

      ‘Queenie, Hollis will be staying for tea.’ She turned to him. ‘You have no further appointments this afternoon have you?’

      Too surprised to speak, he shook his head.

      Queenie held the door open for him. He was about to move when Mrs Egerton-Smythe raised her hand. ‘No, Queenie, Hollis will have tea with me. In here.’

      Queenie gasped. ‘But, madam!’ she protested.

      ‘Hollis and I have a lot to talk about,’ and she turned sharply to Ralph, ‘haven’t we?’

      Ralph nodded again, amazed. The door closed.

      ‘Now, sit down, and we’ll discuss what we’re going to do with that jungle out there.’ Ralph just stared at her. ‘Or have you decided to look for work elsewhere? Don’t worry, it’s quite common. I seem to scare the living daylights out of most people who work here. I don’t know why.’

      ‘You mean I’ve got the job?’

      ‘Don’t be an ass, boy. Of course you have. Now do as I say and sit down. I want to interview you a little more.’

      He lowered himself into one of the leather armchairs opposite her and grinned. ‘You mean, interrogate me.’

      ‘Exactly. Now where shall we start?’

      It was already dark when Ralph wheeled his bicycle out through Mrs Egerton-Smythe’s small gate. He stopped for a moment to gaze back at the large forbidding house. He had a feeling Mrs Egerton-Smythe’s brusqueness was caused by some kind of pain but, in spite of her irritability, he liked her. He gave a broad smile.

      As he cycled away, his spirits were so high that he found himself singing a Brandenburg Concerto. He headed towards the wide tree-lined road which led off Mrs Egerton-Smythe’s avenue. Once he reached the High Street, he turned left past the department store on the corner where his Auntie Win worked and the little dress shop a hundred yards further on where his cousin Joan worked, past two cinemas, a jeweller’s, a shoe shop, a butcher’s, past the tower with a clock on it which stood in the centre, past more shops until he was outside the Palace Theatre. He pulled on his brakes and glanced up at the hoarding advertising Ladies in Retirement. Next week, it announced, French Without Tears. ‘Charming, Amusing, a Delight!’

      He mentally crossed his fingers and skimmed downhill towards the railway station and bridge.

      The family were all sitting round the table when he arrived home. Several arguments were going on which were being refereed by his mother. His father was polishing his boots, a sign that he was going out.

      ‘You’re not old enough for the Saturday thriller, Elsie,’ his mother was saying. ‘You’ll have nightmares.’

      ‘I won’t,’ she insisted. ‘I know it’s just a story.’

      ‘It’s for grown-ups.’

      ‘So’s them books Auntie Win reads out. You let me listen to them.’

      ‘You’re not supposed to be listening.’

      ‘Mavis White’s allowed to go out to Saturday dances with her friends,’ interrupted Joan. ‘And meet boys there. He said that’s where he’d see me, and I promised.’

      ‘You had no right. If he wants to take you out he can come here and pick you up hisself. Elsie, clear the table.’

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