Читать книгу The Island of Adventure - Enid blyton - Страница 7

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It seemed ages before Aunt Polly got through to Mr. Roy. The master was worried and puzzled. Jack and Lucy-Ann had not returned, of course, and at first he had thought they had gone off for one of their walks, and that Jack had found some unusual bird and had forgotten all about time.

But as the hours went by and still the children had not come back, he became seriously worried. It did not occur to him that they might have gone with Philip, or he would have telephoned to the boy’s aunt at once.

He was most relieved to hear Mrs. Sullivan, Philip’s aunt, speaking, giving him the news that the children were safe.

“They arrived here with Philip,” she said, with some sharpness. “I cannot think how it was that they were allowed to do this. I cannot possibly keep them.”

Mr. Roy’s heart sank. He had hoped for one wild moment that his problem concerning Jack and Lucy-Ann, and that tiresome parrot, was solved. Now it seemed as if it wasn’t.

“Well, Mrs. Sullivan,” said Mr. Roy politely, though he did not feel at all civil, “I’m sorry about it. The children went down to see Philip off, and I suppose the boy persuaded them to go with him. It’s a pity you could not keep them for the rest of the holidays, as they would probably be happier with you and Philip. No doubt they have told you that their uncle cannot have them back these holidays. He sent me a cheque for a large sum of money, hoping I could have them. But I should be pleased to hand this over to you if you felt that you could take charge of them, and we could get Mr. Trent’s consent to it.”

There was a pause. “How much was the cheque?” asked Mrs. Sullivan.

There was another pause after Mr. Roy told her the sum of money that had been sent. It certainly was a very generous amount. Mrs. Sullivan thought quickly. The children would not cost much to keep. She would see that they kept out of Jocelyn’s way. That girl Lucy-Ann could help Dinah with the house-work. And she would be able to pay off a few bills, which would be a great relief to her.

Mr. Roy waited hopefully at the other end of the wire. He could not bear the thought of having the parrot back again. Jack was bearable, Lucy-Ann was nice—but Kiki was impossible.

“Well,” said Mrs. Sullivan, in the sort of voice that meant she was prepared to give in, “Well—let me think now. It’s going to be difficult—because we’ve so little room here. I mean, though the house is enormous, half of it is in ruins and most of it is too draughty to live in. But perhaps we could manage. If I use the tower-room again....”

Philip and the others, who could hear everything that was being said by Mrs. Sullivan, looked at one another in delight. “Aunt Polly’s giving in!” whispered Philip. “And oh, Jack—I bet we’ll have the old tower-room for our own. I’ve always wanted to sleep there and have it for my room, but Aunt Polly would never let me.”

“Mrs. Sullivan, you would be doing me a great kindness if you could manage to take the children off my hands,” said Mr. Roy earnestly. “I will telephone at once to Mr. Trent. Leave it all to me. I will send you the cheque at once. And if you should need any more money, let me know. I really cannot tell you how obliged I should be to you if you could manage this for me. The children are quite easy to manage. Lucy-Ann is sweet. It’s only that awful parrot—so rude—but you could get a cage for it, perhaps.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the parrot,” said Mrs. Sullivan, which surprised Mr. Roy very much. Kiki gave a loud squawk, which Mr. Roy heard down the telephone. Well—Mrs. Sullivan must be a remarkable woman if she liked Kiki!

Not much more was said. Mrs. Sullivan said she would write to Mr. Trent, after she had heard again from Mr. Roy. In the meantime she undertook to look after the children for the rest of the holidays.

The receiver clicked as she put it down. The children heaved a sigh of relief. Philip went up to his aunt.

“Oh, thanks, Aunt Polly,” he said. “It will be fine for me and Dinah to have friends with us. We’ll try and keep out of Uncle’s way, and help you all we can.”

“Dear Polly,” said Kiki affectionately, and actually left Jack’s shoulder to hop on to Aunt Polly’s! The children stared in astonishment. Good old Kiki! She was playing up to Aunt Polly properly.

“Silly bird!” said Aunt Polly, hardly liking to show how pleased she was.

“God save the King,” said Kiki unexpectedly, and everyone laughed.

“Philip, you and Jack must have the tower-room for your own,” said Aunt Polly. “Come with me, and I’ll see what can be arranged. Dinah, go to your room and see if you would rather share it with Lucy-Ann, or whether she would rather have Philip’s old room. They open out of one another, so perhaps you would like to have the two rooms.”

Dinah went off happily with Lucy-Ann to examine the room. Lucy-Ann wished she was sleeping nearer to Jack. The tower-room was a good way from where she herself would sleep. Jack took Kiki and went to a high window, settling on the window-seat to watch the sea-birds in their restless soaring and gliding outside.

Philip went to the tower-room with his aunt. He felt very happy. He had become very fond of Jack and Lucy-Ann, and it was almost too good to be true to think they had come to stay with him for some weeks.

The two of them went down a cold stone passage. They came to a narrow, winding stone stairway, and climbed up the steep steps. The stairway wound round and round, and at last came out into the tower-room. This was a perfectly round room whose walls were very thick. It had three narrow windows, one facing the sea. There was no glass in at all, and the room was draughty, and full of the sound of the crying of birds, and the roaring of the waves below.

“I’m afraid this room will be cold for you two boys,” said Aunt Polly, but Philip shook his head at once.

“We shan’t mind that. We should have the windows wide open if there was any glass, Aunt Polly. We’ll be all right. We shall love it up here. Look—there’s an old oak chest to put our things in—and a wooden stool—and we can bring a rug up from downstairs. We only need a mattress.”

“Well—we can’t possibly get a bed up those narrow stairs,” said Aunt Polly. “So you will have to have a mattress to sleep on. I’ve got an old double one that must do for you. I will send Dinah up with a broom and a cloth to clean the room a bit.”

“Aunt Polly, thanks awfully again for arranging all this,” said Philip, half shyly, for he was afraid of his hard-working aunt, and although he spent all his holidays with her, he felt that he did not really know her very well. “I hope Mr. Trent’s cheque will cover all your expenses—but I’m sure Jack and Lucy-Ann won’t cost much.”

“Well, Philip,” said Aunt Polly, shutting the lid of the old chest and turning to the boy with a troubled face, “Well, my boy, you mustn’t think I am making too much fuss—but the fact is, your mother hasn’t been at all well, and hasn’t been able to send nearly as much money for you as usual—and, you see, your school fees are rather high—and I’ve been a bit worried to know what to do. You are old enough now to realise that dear old Uncle Jocelyn is not much use in bearing responsibility for a household—and the bit of money I have soon goes.”

Philip listened in alarm. His mother was ill! Aunt Polly hadn’t been getting the money as usual—it all sounded very worrying to him.

“What’s the matter with Mother?” he asked.

“Well—she’s very thin and run-down, and she’s got a dreadful cough, she says,” answered Aunt Polly. “The doctors say she must have a long rest—by the sea if possible—but how can she give up her job?”

“I shan’t go back to school,” said Philip at once. “I shall find a job myself somehow. I can’t have Mother working herself to death for us.”

“You can’t do that,” said Aunt Polly. “Why, you are not even fourteen yet. No—now that I have a little money coming in from Mr. Trent for these two children, it will ease things a good deal.”

“This house is too big for you,” said Philip, suddenly noticing how tired his aunt looked. “Aunt Polly, why do we have to live here? Why can’t we leave and take a nice little house somewhere, where you wouldn’t have to work so hard, and which wouldn’t be so lonely?”

“I’d like to,” said Aunt Polly, with a sigh, “but who would buy a place like this, half ruined and in such a wind-swept, desolate spot? And I should never be able to get your uncle to move. He loves this place, he loves this whole coast, and knows more about it than anyone else in the world. Well, well—it’s no good wishing this and that. We must just go on until you and Dinah are old enough to earn your living.”

“Then I shall make a home for Mother, and she and Dinah and I will live together happily,” thought Philip, as he followed his aunt downstairs to fetch the old mattress. He called to Jack, and the two boys, with much puffing and panting, got the awkward mattress up the narrow stairway. Kiki encouraged them with shrieks and squawks. Jo-Jo, the black man, frowned at the noise. He seemed to think Kiki was directing her screeches at him, and, when she found that her noises annoyed him, she did her best to make him jump by unexpected squawks in his ear.

Jo-Jo was taking up a small table and Jack’s trunk. He set them down in the tower-room and looked out of the window. He seemed very bad-tempered, Philip thought. Not that he was good-tempered at any time—but he looked even sulkier than usual.

“What’s up, Jo-Jo?” said Philip, who was not in the least afraid of the sullen servant. “Seeing things?”

The children had laughed over Jo-Jo’s idea that there were “things” wandering about at night. Jo-Jo frowned.

“Miss Polly shouldn’t use this room,” he said. “No, that she shouldn’t, and I’ve telled her so. It’s a bad room. And you can see the Isle of Gloom from it too, when the mists lift—and it’s bad to look on the Isle of Gloom.”

“Don’t be silly, Jo-Jo,” said Philip, laughing.

“Don’t be silly, Jo-Jo,” repeated Kiki, in an exact imitation of Philip’s voice. Jo-Jo scowled at both boy and bird.

“Well, you take my word, Master Philip, and don’t you go looking at the Isle of Gloom more than you can help. This is the only room you can see it from, and that’s why it’s a bad room. No good ever came from the Isle of Gloom. Bad men lived there, and bad deeds were done there, and wickedness came from that isle as long as anyone remembers.”

With this very weird warning the black man departed down the stairs, his eyes rolling, as he gazed back at the two boys with a scowl.

“Pleasant fellow, isn’t he?” said Philip, as he and Jack unrolled the mattress. “Half mad, I think. Anyway, he must be daft to stay on here and do the work he does. He could get much more money anywhere else.”

“What’s this Isle of Gloom he talks about?” said Jack, going to the window. “What a queer name! I can’t see any island, Tufty.”

“You hardly ever can see it,” said Philip. “It lies right out there, to the west, and there is a reef of rocks round it over which waves continually break, flinging up spray. It seems always to have a mist hanging over it. No-one lives there, though people used to, years and years ago.”

“I’d like to go there,” said Jack. “There must be hundreds of birds on that island—quite tame and friendly. It would be marvellous to see them.”

“Tame and friendly. What do you mean, Freckles?” said Philip, in surprise. “Look at the birds here—afraid even of Kiki!”

“Ah, but the birds on the Isle of Gloom would not have known man at all,” said Jack. “They would not have learnt to be wary or cautious. I could get some simply marvellous photographs. Gosh, I’d like to go there!”

“Well, you can’t,” said Philip. “I’ve never been myself, and no-one has, as far as I know. Look—will this be the best place for the mattress? We don’t want it too near the windows because the rain would wet it—and it often rains here.”

“Put it where you like,” said Jack, lost in dreams about the misty island and its unknown birds. He might see birds there that he had never seen at all—he might find rare nests and eggs. He might take the most wonderful bird-photographs in the world. Jack was quite determined to go to the Isle of Gloom if he could, in spite of all Jo-Jo’s frightening tales.

“Come on down to the others,” said Philip at last, putting the last of their clothes into the chest. “I can’t say you’ve been much help, Jack. Come on, Kiki.”

They went down the narrow, winding stair to find the others. It was good to think of the weeks ahead, with no work, no lessons—just bathing, climbing, rowing. They certainly would have fun!