Читать книгу Awful Auntie - David Walliams, Quentin Blake, David Walliams - Страница 15

“Dead?” Stella was in floods of tears now. “Please, please, tell me this isn’t true? Tell me this is all just some terrible nightmare!”

Aunt Alberta looked upon her niece with pity. She took a long, deep puff on her pipe, as she pondered her reply. “Dead, child. As dead as dead can be. Deader than dead. Completely deadest. In fact so totally dead they were buried under the ground months ago. I don’t think there is much hope for them now.”

Memories of her beloved mother and father flashed through Stella’s mind. Her papa taking her in a rowing boat on the lake, making her giggle as he clowned around with the oars. Her mama twirling her around the ballroom of Saxby Hall, teaching her to dance. The memories already seemed like scratchy old black-and-white films, the pictures fuzzy and jumpy, the sound muffled. She fought to make them clearer. This was all she had left of them now.

“Months ago?” spluttered Stella. “So I missed their funeral?”

“Mmm, child. It was a terribly sad day, seeing their two cheap coffins lying side by side. Luckily the vicar gave me a discount for the funeral service as it was two people being buried in one go.”

“Did you arrange some flowers from me?”

“No. To be honest with you, they were so dead by that point that they wouldn’t have known.”

The little girl couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could her aunt be so uncaring about her brother and his wife – Stella’s dear mother and father. It was no secret she deeply resented Lord and Lady Saxby, even though they had treated her with nothing but kindness. Alberta even had a wing of Saxby Hall all to herself. Without Chester the woman would have been homeless, having squandered all her own money and plenty of her brother’s. However, she never once said thank you or did anything kind in return.

Even when she was very little Stella had noticed the cruel way her aunt behaved around Chester. Alberta would roll her eyes whenever he spoke, and sneer whenever he offered her a smile. If it was someone in the family’s birthday, Alberta would slink off to her very own greenhouse, at the bottom of the long sloping lawn. Unusually the woman had blacked out its windows with paint. Stella was sure this rather defeated the idea of it being a greenhouse as no sunlight could shine in. Who had ever heard of plants that could grow in the dark? Still, whatever it was that Alberta had hidden inside, it was free from everyone else’s prying eyes.

“So I have been in a coma all this time?” asked Stella, her sobs slowing down a little now.

“Yes. Months now. You hit your head in the car crashy-washy, and were rushed to hospital in an ambulance. The doctors and nurses did their best for you. Of course I was on the phone to them every hour, asking for any news of my only niece, I was so worried your condition might worsen.”

“But if all my bones are broken why aren’t I still there?” demanded the girl.

The woman took another puff on her pipe, giving her time to think. “Because my little niecy-wiecy, who better to look after you than me? Hospitals are full of ghastly people who are all illy-willy. How much better to be at home in your own bed, under the watchful eyes of Wagner and I. Isn’t that right, Wagner?”

The woman kissed her owl’s bill, as she often did. Stella always found this distinctly uncomfortable to watch, and shuddered. As much as someone who was bound neck to toe in bandages could shudder.

“Wagner has looked after you so well these past few months. It was like you were his little owlet, ha ha!”

“What do you mean?” asked Stella.

“Well, being in a coma, it was hard to feed you. And I needed to, I mean wanted to keep you alive. So I would pop a nice juicy slug or beetle into Wagner’s mouth, he would give it a good munch, and then spit it into your mouth as you slept.”

The girl’s face went green. “That’s disgusting!”

“See the thanks we get, Wagner?” said Aunt Alberta. “Spoilt little brat. Well, we will leave you for now.” With that Alberta stood up, and the bed righted itself.

“Where are you going?” demanded Stella.

“Oh, I have been rushed off my feet since your mother and father’s tragic passing! It’s been go-go-go! So much to do! Selling your mother’s clothes, burning your father’s letters and diaries.”

“But I would have wanted to keep them!”

“You should have said!”

“I was in a coma!” protested Stella.

“That’s no excuse. Oh and there’s something I need to ask you.”

“What?”

Suddenly Aunt Alberta seemed a little coy. She spoke as if choosing her words very carefully. “Well, child, I’ve been searching and searching for the deeds to Saxby Hall.”

“Why?”

“Because this old wreck would be far too much for a young girl like you to look after. How old are you?”

“Nearly thirteen!” replied Stella.

“So, you are twelve?”

“Yes,” the girl conceded.

“Well, say twelve then. A mere child. Wouldn’t it be best for your favourite aunty-waunty to look after Saxby Hall for you?”

The little girl fell silent. Her father had always told her that she would one day inherit Saxby Hall, and Stella had promised to look after it for the next generation of Saxbys. Of course she couldn’t look after the house all on her own, but she didn’t want Alberta to do it for her. Stella didn’t trust this woman one bit.

“But…!” she protested.

“No buts! Please don’t worry your pretty little head with all this. It’s boring grown-ups’ business! Just as soon as I’ve turned this whole house upside down and found the deeds to Saxby Hall, all you have to do is sign them over to me and this place is mine. I mean mine to look after for you. So my little question is this…”

“Go on.”

The woman fixed a grin on her face, and it looked like she was wearing a mask. “Well, I was wondering if you knew where those little deedsy-weedsies might be?”

Stella hesitated for a moment. Her mother and father had always taught her never to tell lies. However, something deep inside her told her that right now she had to. “No.”

The little girl’s voice went up a notch. Aunt Alberta was not convinced.

“Are you sure?” The woman brought her face right up close to her niece’s. So close that Stella had to try not to breathe, such were the fumes of sherry and pipe tobacco on her aunt’s breath.

“Yes,” replied the girl. Stella tried her best not to blink, in case that gave her away. However, she was so unused to lying that her mouth went as dry as hot sand, and she just had to swallow.

GULP.

“If I find out that you’re lying, young lady, there will be trouble. Mark my words there will be trouble. T,R,U,B,L,E. Trouble.” Yes, spelling was certainly not Aunt Alberta’s strong point.

“Now if you need anything, my dear, anything at all, just ring this bell.”

Out of the patch pocket of her tweed jacket, Alberta produced a tiny gold bell. It was in the shape of a miniature statuette of an owl. The woman teased the top, and the quietest DING-A-LING sounded.

“Either myself or Wagner will come as soon as we possibly can.”

“I’m not eating any more mushed-up creepy-crawlies from that horrible bird!” shouted Stella.

The noise startled Wagner, who flapped his wings as he jumped up and down on his mistress’s hand, squawking. The huge creature’s wings were so long that as he flapped and squawked a picture hanging on the wall was sent flying. It fell to the floor, the glass smashing. It was a wedding photograph of Stella’s mother and father. It was her absolute favourite photograph of them. They were stood outside the local church, the same one they were now buried at. In the picture they looked so young and in love, her mother achingly beautiful in her flowing white wedding dress, her father boyishly handsome in his shiny black silk top hat and morning suit.

Aunt Alberta leaned down to pick up the photograph. “Tut-tut-tut…” she said in a pantomime of caring. “Look what you’ve done now, you selfish child! Startling poor little Wagner like that.” The woman pulled the photograph out of the frame, and with one hand screwed it up into a ball. “I’ll put this on the bonfire for you!”

“No!” screamed Stella. “Please don’t!”

“It’s no trouble,” replied her aunt. “Now as I said before your outburst, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, just ring the belly-welly.”

“But how can I ring it? I can’t move either of my arms!” Stella protested.

The woman leaned over the girl’s bed.

“Open wide!” she ordered, as if she was a demonic dentist. Unthinking the girl did as she was told, and Aunt Alberta placed the bell into her niece’s mouth.

The woman chuckled at the strange sight, and her owl squawked brightly, as if he was laughing too. The gruesome twosome giggled their way over to Stella’s bedroom door, and slammed it behind them.

BANG!

Stella heard the key in the lock turn.

CLICK.

There was no escape.