Читать книгу Six Bad Boys - Enid blyton - Страница 7

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Bob’s mother wasn’t too pleased with him when he came in that night, much later than she had told him to be in.

“I suppose you think you’re sixteen!” she said to him. “Well, you’re not. You’re not even twelve! And you’ve got to be in at the time I tell you.”

“But you said you were going out to tea, too,” said Bob. “Why shouldn’t I go as well?”

“You’ll just do as you’re told,” said his mother. “It’s enough bother to have to stay at home and look after you, as it is, without your being disobedient and headstrong.”

Bob looked at her in surprise. “Am I a bother?” he asked. “How am I? I’m at school all day, except for dinner. I can take my dinner to school if you like. Some of the children do. But after all you’ve got nothing to do except to look after the house and me. I shouldn’t have thought I was much bother!”

“If it wasn’t for you, my boy, I could go out and get a good job,” said his mother. “And one of these days I will, if you don’t do what you’re told. I’d like to earn good money and have something to spend on better clothes and go to a dance at times, and to the cinema more often. But I can’t because I’ve got you to see to. And all you do is to defy me and be rude.”

Bob was shocked. Was he such a nuisance and a bother? He couldn’t be! He saw that his mother was upset and he went to her. He put his arm round her waist and gave her a hug.

“Don’t take on so, Mum,” he said. “I’m a good boy at heart! Go on, smile at me! You’re all I’ve got, Mum, you know you are—and I wouldn’t hurt you for worlds!”

“Well, you come home when you’re told, then,” said his mother. “And don’t press me so hard with your arm.”

Bob let go and stood back, hurt. He really loved his mother, and always wished she would be more loving to him. He knew she was proud of him and his good looks and self-confidence, but he wanted more than that. He wanted her love too—and, like Tom, he compared her with Mrs. Mackenzie.

The twins’ mother was always so kind, Bob thought. She always seemed so pleased to see them whenever they came back from school. She didn’t mind hugging them back when they hugged her. He was quite sure they never seemed a bother to her. She was a real mother.

He felt his heart sink suddenly. Wasn’t his mother a real mother? Was he a nuisance now that she hadn’t got his father? He knew that money had been tight since his father died—but he had left them enough to be comfortably off. He felt impelled to hug his mother again, hoping that this time she would hug him back, and prove his thoughts wrong.

She gave him a small hug but that was all. Then she smiled at him brightly. “Well now, Bob—you seem as if you’re sorry for going against my wishes and coming home so late. Don’t do it again, will you?”

Bob took away his arm. He looked surly now. “I shan’t promise,” he said, and turned away. “I’m not a baby. And I won’t be a nuisance either! You get me sandwiches for my lunch each day and I won’t need to come home to dinner.”

He didn’t for one moment think that his mother would take him at his word. He enjoyed coming home in the middle of the day and telling all that had happened, even if his mother didn’t seem to listen very much. He liked calling for the Mackenzies in the afternoon and stroking Frisky and taking little Pat by the hand.

So he was horrified the next morning when he suddenly saw his mother cutting up sandwiches in the kitchen. He stared at them and then at her.

“Who are they for, Mum?” he asked, afraid.

“For you,” said his mother, cutting the bread squares in half. “How many do you want?”

“But Mum—I didn’t mean it!” cried Bob. “I didn’t think you’d do it!”

“Well, now you see I have,” said his mother. “If you so badly want to spend all your time at school, you can.”

“But I don’t want to,” said Bob, desperately. “I only said that because you said I was a nuisance.”

“It’s quite a good idea, really,” said Mrs. Kent, not looking at Bob. “It means I can sometimes go off for the day and see my friends in Croydon. I feel so cutoff down here. Look, do you think that’s enough?”

“Mum, you go off for the day when you want to,” said Bob, pulling at his mother’s arm. “But let me come home the other days. I tell you I only said that.”

“You’re getting to be a difficult boy,” said Mrs. Kent, cutting a piece of cake and wrapping it up with the sandwiches. “If your father had been alive he would have whipped you many a time for your disobedience. You’re so bossy too—thinking you can have everything your own way! And anyway I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, Bob; lots of other children stay to dinner at school.”

“Yes. But I don’t need to,” said Bob, making a last desperate effort. “Do I, Mum? I like coming home I want to come home, like the Mackenzies do.”

“I can’t imagine why Mrs. Mackenzie doesn’t let all her three take sandwiches,” said Mrs. Kent, tying string round the packet. “On top of her all the time! One’s trouble enough—but three! There you are, there’s plenty there for you. I’ll see you at tea-time.”

“Mum, you go off for the day when you want to.”

There was nothing more to be said. If Bob was determined and obstinate, so was his mother! Bob went off, upset. He tried to comfort himself by thinking that his mother was just punishing him for being late the night before—but he had a most uncomfortable feeling that it was more than a punishment. She was glad to be rid of him for the day!

He walked alone to school that morning, thinking hard. Was he annoying to his mother? Didn’t she like him to look after her as he tried to do? Was he really “too big for his boots”? His heart sank again when he remembered her hard voice. He must do his best to show her that he loved her and wanted his home. It was quite unthinkable that his mother wanted to be rid of him. That would mean she didn’t love him.

He didn’t hear the Mackenzies calling him. He walked on, his head down, puzzled and worried. Then he heard quick footsteps and a small hand was thrust into his. It was Pat!

He looked down, smiling, his heart lifting at once. He squeezed Pat’s hand tightly and hurt her. But she didn’t mind, because it told her that Bob liked her so much. She began to chatter to him, and he found his worries going.

He got them all back again, though, at lunch-time. He set off to the cloakroom to get his cap and coat with Jeanie and Donald—and suddenly remembered that he wasn’t going home! He was to stay at school with the dinner-boys and girls and eat his sandwiches.

“I forgot—I’m staying at school for dinner to-day,” he said to Donald, and went back to the classroom.

“See you this afternoon then,” called Donald, and off he went with Jeanie and Pat. Tom, Eleanor and Hilda went with them. Bob watched them from the window, enviously.

“I’ll buy Mum some flowers,” he thought suddenly. “I’ve got sixpence. Surely that would buy a few flowers for her? She’ll like that.”

So after school that afternoon he went to the little flower-shop and looked at the flowers. How dreadfully expensive they were! Good gracious—he could never afford those prices!

The shop-girl saw him looking dismally in at the door and she called to him. “What do you want? A bunch of flowers?”

“Well, I wanted to buy some for my mother, but they’re all so expensive,” said Bob.

“How much do you want to spend?” said the girl.

“I’ve only got sixpence,” said Bob.

“I’ll make you up a nice little bunch of violets for sixpence,” said the girl. She got up and took some violets from a bowl of water. She set the stalks together and twisted a bit of cotton round them, and then surrounded the little purple bunch with big green leaves.

“Smell,” she said. “They’re lovely. My, your mother is lucky to have a nice boy like you taking her flowers! She’ll give you a big hug, I’m sure.”

Bob smiled politely. He hoped she was right. He gave the girl his sixpence and set off. He ran most of the way home, feeling as if he had been away for a week!

He rushed in at the back door, calling loudly, “Mum! Where are you. Mum?”

He heard voices in the sitting-room. He slammed the back door and rushed in. “Mum! Look what I’ve got for you!”

An old friend of his mother’s was sitting there, drinking tea. She put her cup down hurriedly as Bob rushed in. He took no notice of her at all.

“Look,” he said, and held out the little bunch of violets to his mother. She took them and set them on her tea-tray.

“Bob, what a way to come in!” she said. “Can’t you see I have a visitor here—dear Mrs. Adams, all the way from Croydon to see us! Where are your manners?”

Bob could have burst with rage. To think that this old lady, who he had always thoroughly disliked, should be there to tea with his mother, when he so badly wanted to fuss her and give her flowers and make her be nice to him! And all his mother had done was to take his flowers and put them aside without even saying thank you. Bob went crimson with disappointment.

“Shake hands with Mrs. Adams, Bob,” said his mother, sounding cross. How annoying of Bob to come rushing in like that, his hands dirty, his hair untidy!

He shook hands with the disapproving old lady, and mumbled something.

“I don’t think it’s improving him, coming down here,” said Mrs. Adams looking at Bob critically. “And from what you tell me of his behaviour I’m afraid the new friends he has made aren’t doing him any good.”

Bob stared at her, shocked and angry. “What has my mother been telling you about me?” he demanded.

“Now, now, Bob—sit down and have some tea,” said his mother, annoyed with Mrs. Adams for telling Bob that she had been complaining of him, and annoyed with Bob for looking so untidy and forgetting his manners.

“I don’t want any tea,” said Bob, rudely. He just stopped himself from putting out his tongue at the shocked Mrs. Adams, and then he rushed out of the room at top speed. SLAM went the door behind him!