Читать книгу Chernobyl - Ilinda Markova - Страница 18

THE LAKE WAS CHANGING colour. Rob noticed that its waters were turning greener. All his senses were screaming at him that something unusual was going on.

Kissy waited for him with presents: a little frog and a dead fish.

“Where did you find that fish?” Rob frowned in disgust.

“It’s a gift from the lake.” Kissy gave him a disarming smile. “For you.”

“But it’s dead!”

“What’s the difference?” Kissy asked innocently.

“It worries me! And the lake’s turning green!”

“It’s so beautiful!” insisted Kissy, admiring the dead fish. “And the lake becomes more and more beautiful. What have you brought?” she peered pointing at the Teddy Bear that Rob had snitched from Tettie, the only one allowed to play with it, and was now hiding behind his back.

“You can hold him. Teddy Bear, please meet Miss Kissy.”

“And who’s Teddy Bear?” Kissy stretched out her fins and embraced the shabby soft toy.

“Once he used to be a mother.”

“What’s mother? A game or what?” There was a look of genuine interest on Kissy’s face.

Rob seized the toy and wrung it out.

“How could you be so ignorant, so stupid?” He raged angrily. “Don’t you have a mother to teach you manners? You’re lucky you met me! I’ll show you my mother.”

“But you’ve already shown him to me, the Teddy Bear.” Kissy’s voice was soft, she was shaking her fins, pointing to the toy.

“Now I’ve got a real one.”

“I’ll be happy to see him!” Kissy blushed again.

“It’s her, not him. Her name is Aunty Do. But listen...” Rob hesitated as he tried to find the right words. “You better keep away! Not because you’ll frighten her.”

Tears came into Kissy’s mismatched eyes. Now she looked a real sweetie.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed deeply.

“You’re very beautiful indeed.” Rob remarked seemingly coldly. “You remind me of a dog scratching behind the ear.”

Kissy flapped with her fins.

“All right I’ll teach you some useful things. You see that big yellow thing up there in the sky?” pointed Rob. “It’s not a potato, it’s not a tomato, it’s not even an apple! It’s the sun. And that small naughty thing that flies around your nose is not a plane, not a bird, not even a butterfly. It’s a mosquito.”

“Mosquito,” repeated Kissy fascinated, scratching her nose. “It bites.”

“And this tall green thing is a tree. Tree is plural and trees is singular. I’ve always been good at grammar!”