Читать книгу Freaky Families - Diana Wynne Jones - Страница 8

Erg sighed and went upstairs. But it was not a wasted journey. The thought of the bathroom put into his head exactly what would make the invention perfect. It needed glass tubes, with blue water bubbling in them, going plotterta-plotterta like inventions did in films. He banged at the bathroom door.

“Go away!” boomed Emily from inside. She sounded tearful. “I’m busy. I’m reading Granny Four’s book.”

“Why are you doing it in there?” Erg asked.

“Because they keep interrupting and asking where to put potatoes and oranges.”

“They want you to come out.”

“I’m not going to,” Emily boomed. “Not till I’ve read it. It’s beautiful. It’s ever so sad.” Erg could hear her sobbing as he went away downstairs.

He went to the kitchen, where the Grannies were sitting among mounds of potatoes and oranges, and told them Emily was reading.

He thought he would never understand Grannies. One by one, they tiptoed to the bathroom, rattled the handle and whispered there was a cup of tea outside. “And don’t hurt your eyes, dear,” Granny Two whispered. “I’m pushing a biscuit under the door for you.”

It seemed to be keeping them busy. Erg sat behind the sofa and got on with thinking how to make blue water go plotterta-plotterta. But he had still not worked it out when Granny Four came and quavered to him that Emily had not touched her tea. Nor had he when Granny Two came to tell him that Emily was ruining her eyes. Nor had he when Granny One came and told him to go out and get some nice fresh air.

Erg was annoyed. He wished he had thought of locking himself in the bathroom too. And he was even more annoyed when Emily at last came out. She came straight to the sofa and crashed heavily down on it with her chin resting on the back.

“What are you making, dear brother?” she said in a sweet cooing voice.

Erg looked up at her suspiciously. There were tear-streaks down Emily’s face and an expression on it even more saintly than Granny Four’s. “What’s the matter with you?” he said.

Emily turned her eyes piously to the ceiling. “I have taken a vow to be good, dear brother,” she said. “It was that beautiful sad book Granny Four gave me. The girl in it was called Emily too, and she was terribly punished for her wickedness.”

“Go away,” said Erg. He was not sure he could bear it if Emily was going to be a saint as well as Granny Four.

“Ah, dear brother,” cooed Emily, “do not spurn me. I must stay and pray for you. You have wickedly taken all the kitchen things for that Thing you’re making.”