Читать книгу Peyton Place - Grace Metalious - Страница 20

Table of Contents

Norman Page sat at the kitchen table while his mother poured out hot chocolate for him.

“Did you have a good day, dear?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Norman absently. He was thinking of Allison and Miss Hester.

“Tell me about it, dear.”

“Nothing to tell. It was just like any other day. We’re learning a little bit about algebra now. Miss Thornton says we’ll need it when we get to high school.”

“Oh? Do you enjoy Miss Thornton, dear?”

“She’s all right. She’s not crabby like some teachers.”

“How come you were walking with Allison MacKenzie, Norman?”

“She just happened to be on this street and she walked along with me.”

“But what was she doing on Depot Street? She lives on Beech.”

This was the part of every day that Norman hated. Every afternoon he had to sit and drink hot chocolate, or milk, or fruit juice, which he did not want most of the time, while his mother quizzed him about the children with whom he had associated that day.

“I don’t know what Allison was doing here,” he said crossly. “She just happened to be on Depot Street when I came along.”

“Do you like Allison, dear?” asked Mrs. Page.

“She’s all right.”

“Then you do like her!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I did not. I just said I thought she was all right.”

“It’s the same thing. Do you like her as much as you like Miss Thornton?”

“I never said I like Miss Thornton, either!”

“Oh, Norman! Your voice!”

Mrs. Page sank down into her rocking chair and began to cry, and Norman, stricken with shame and guilt, ran to her.

“Oh, Mother. I didn’t mean it. Truly, I didn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, dear. You can’t help it. It is your father’s blood in your veins.”

“It is not! It is not, either!”

“Yes, dear. Yes, it is. You are a great deal like your father and like Caroline and Charlotte.”

“I am not.”

Norman’s eyes filled with tears, and he could not control his throat muscles enough to keep himself from sobbing.

“I am not like them,” he cried.

“Yes you are, dear. Yes, you are. Ah, well, maybe you’ll be happier when I’m dead and you can go to live with your half sisters.”

“Don’t talk like that, Mother. You’re not going to die!”

“Yes, I am, Norman. Someday soon I’ll be dead, and you’ll have to go to live with Caroline and Charlotte. Oh, my darling son, even in Heaven I shall weep to see you in the clutches of those two dreadfully evil, wicked women.”

“No! Oh, no, no, no!”

“Oh, yes, dear. I’ll be dead soon, and perhaps you’ll be better off.”

“You’re not going to die. You are not. What would I do if you did?”

“Oh, you’d have Caroline and Charlotte, and Miss Thornton and little Allison MacKenzie. You’d get along without your mother.”

Norman collapsed on the floor at his mother’s feet. He sobbed hysterically and tugged at her skirt with both his hands, but she would not look down at him.

“No, I wouldn’t get along! I’d die myself. I love only you, Mother. I don’t love anybody else.”

“Are you sure, Norman? There’s nobody else you love?”

“No, no, no. There is no one else, Mother. Just you.”

“Don’t you like Miss Thornton and little Allison, dear?”

“No. No, I hate them! I hate everybody in the whole world except you.”

“Do you love Mother, Norman?”

Norman’s sobs were dry and painful now, and he hiccuped wretchedly.

“Oh, yes, Mother. I love only you. I love you better than God, even. Say you’re not going to leave me.”

For a long time Mrs. Page stroked her son’s bowed head which rested now on her knees.

“I’ll never leave you, Norman,” she said at last. “Never. Of course I am not going to die.”