Читать книгу Teething Trouble - Philip Edwards - Страница 4

The day started like the weather, dreary and dark. The long Christmas break was over. Time to get back to school and a new term. The heart and soul of many a schoolboy and girl lay dark with despair this morning. The glittery gloss had long been worn off the festive cheer. Aunts, uncles and grandparents, with their kipper ties, super hero socks and Parisienne bath salts had all returned home to store their unwanted gifts for re-distribution next year. New toys had lost their initial sparkle, batteries had flattened and for Beth Saunders, the only hope for the future was the possibilities offered by Granny Devereaux's Book Token gift.

She lay there, all comfy and cosy under her blankets. She loved the smell of the lavender expelled from her pillowcase and she knew that her fresh clothes and her handkerchief would smell just the same - just as soon as she raised herself to get dressed.

She heard her mother calling from the kitchen.

“Beth, Beth dear. Orange or apple juice?"

"Apple please, Mummy.”

Beth pulled her bedding up under her chin. Just a few more luxurious moments of holiday time to indulge in before 'back to school' misery kicked in. Just a few more lingering moments to share with her Princess Pink wallpaper and matching curtains. Just one deliciously longer warm minute whilst trying to cast away the sound of the wind and the rain outside. And it was a Friday. Who on Earth believed that going back to school on a Friday was a good idea? Just one day at school, then another weekend off! Just crazy! Whose idea was that anyway?

"Beth!!!!! Beth!!! Get up you lazy lump! Breakfast is on the table. Boiled egg, toast for soldiers, fruit juice and some cornflakes.

Slowly, deliberately, enjoying the very last seconds of the freedom that Christmas had given her, she reluctantly folded her legs over the side of the bed. Then all at once, she became far more awake and alert. There was something not quite right in her mouth! It just didn’t feel quite right or the same as normal. Her tongue wheedled around a bit and found the toothy gap that had been created the night before. She'd been sitting near her Christmas tree, reading by fairy-light whilst chewing on a piece of toffee when suddenly she'd felt a sharp pain! She'd spat out the toffee and noticed blood and a small speck of white. A live tooth – that was now dead! That wiggly tooth that had been troubling her for weeks had finally lost its battle with Beth's gums. Without thinking, Beth reached under her pillow and there it was - a sparkling silver coin and a receipt. It read:-

She gazed outside thinking. Were there really tooth fairies, or was it just her mummy playing grown-up tricks? No matter how long she stared though, the bright, shiny coin and the receipt remained there besides the pillow. Fifty pence and a tiny signed receipt. Between Granny Devereaux's book token and Ivory Cuspid's tooth money, she would indeed be looking forward to her visit to the book shop next weekend.

Downstairs at the breakfast table, Beth’s mum broke the top off her egg as Beth discreetly placed a few breadcrumbs in her pocket.

“Beth, I’ll know when you’ll be grown up. It’ll be the day that you break the top off of your own egg!” Her mum smiled, giving her daughter a wink.

Beth answered with a toothy grin. “Thanks Mum, and thanks for thuch a thplendid breakfatht.“

“I beg your pardon?” gasped her mum; her face breaking into a smile.

“Oh No!” bellowed Beth. “That tooth. Sinth I lotht the tooth I’ve developed a lithp. What will the other children thay. I can’t go to school like thith . They just won’t take me theriouthly any more.”

Beth’s mum found it very hard indeed not to giggle at this little outburst but she knew that would totally destroy her daughter’s confidence at this moment in time. Still, it continued to be hard not to smile.

“Thtop thmirking mother. It’s thimply not funny!” Beth replied.

“Whisper. Talk in a whisper…..then nobody will notice. Besides, I can already see you’re new tooth coming through. You’ll be right as rain in just a few weeks.” reassured her mum!

“WEEKTH!!!” exclaimed Beth.

“Hurry up now, finish your breakfast. Here’s your packed lunch. Oh! and by the way. A quiet word Beth. A few weeks ago Mrs. Tomlinson at the shop said she’d seen you walking to school with that Spruddge boy from the brown side. Do you think it’s a good idea to hang about with him?”

“Muu uum. I sometimes meet him on the way to thchool. Thometimes we talk. He’th a nice lad you know despite his mother. He’th sort of sweet. You know, we have thomething in common” Beth explained.

Beth’s gaze drifted to the silver trophy on the top of her piano. It was her dad’s last golf trophy for scoring a hole-in-one. She kept it in sparkling condition by polishing it every Saturday in the forlorn hope that some small memory of her dad would come back to her. Beth had been just a little less than two years old on the fateful day that the ‘act of God’ had happened. Try as she may, there were no memories of him in her head. Her dad, Arthur Saunders, had been a very keen golfer. On the tragically fateful day he’d been participating in a championship team event at his beloved golf club. Arthur was in fantastic form that day. Everything was going so well for him. On the eighteenth hole, he faced a challenging par 3 hole and had teed off using his trusty four iron. Whack! Arthur had driven the ball straight and true, watching it arc towards the distant hole. However, simultaneously, without any warning, as his four iron reached the top of his follow through and pointed towards the overcast sky there was one almighty flash, followed by

“Ffffffffeeeeerwhop. BBBOOOOOMMM!”

The biggest, loudest thunder-clap ever heard on the course rang out - except Arthur sadly never heard it. A spectacular lightning bolt had reached out from the grey sky and struck his four iron sending 1,000,000,000,000 watts surging through his body and earthing out through his brand new Stubert Comfort Pro Waterproof Golf Shoes - practically welding them to the ground. Arthur tragically was no more. His shocked fellow golfers are reported to have said: “He never felt a thing before he hit the floor.”

Arthur hadn’t survived to celebrate the outcome of his last shot. It had turned out to be a tournament and trophy winning shot of pure genius – a hole-in-one no less. Over passing years, the shot had assumed legendary status amongst the golfing members of the club. “Arthur’s Tee Shot of Doom” they called it and a small plaque had been placed at the very tee where he’d met his end.

“Yes, I know, Beth.” replied Mrs. Saunders, bringing Beth back from her day-dream. “It must be comforting for you to talk to somebody else who has lost their dad in tragic circumstances……but Beth…we’ve certain standards to maintain in the top part of town you know.”

Beth lived in what was locally called ‘high town’, near the park. Most of her adult neighbours worked in the offices of the local glove factory – a thriving company. Many spent their days processing orders and working on accounts – often performing mathematical miracles. They could calculate a sum and by the time the bill had found its way to the end of the accounting room a zero would find its way onto the end of the starting number. It’s truly amazing how much money could be made by just moving paper.

Beth grabbed her coat and her school bag, hugged her mum and wished her a good day, then walked out into the unwelcoming dreariness of the January morn. Stepping through the garden gate she turned onto the path through the park. Beth’s school walk took a delightful tour of the posh part of her little town. Walking past the slide and the swings, her route took a quarter turn around a sparkling lake. She lingered there for a moment and in no time, her favourite pair of mallards spotted her and shot across the lake as fast as their little webbed feet would take them.

“There you go,” whispered Beth and she fed them the crumbs saved from the breakfast table - they dabbled through the water enjoying their routine treat.

The lake measured about a quarter of a mile around its perimeter. During the Spring, a proud row of apple and cherry blossom trees lined the banks. Pink and white blossom would make a stunning reflection in the water making the lake a popular spot with young courting couples. Later, the blossom would fall like snow forming small white drifts. January however brought its own delights. Often ice would form and the lake would freeze over. When that happened, you could skim a stone across the surface and a peculiar, haunting shrieking noise would echo across the lake and through the park. Remembering the gap in her teeth, Beth felt certain that if there actually were such things as tooth fairies, then this is the place where they would build their castles.

Turning onto a path to her right, she next passed the tennis courts and the bowling green. That concluded the best part of her journey. Town came next, past Lesley’s department store, the cinema and the church. She had a quick look at the bookshop display but at the moment it mostly featured books on fishing. Hopefully, she’d find something more suitable on her Saturday spending spree. Finally Beth started wandering down a steep avenue towards the school gates. She checked her shiny new Christmas watch. Half past eight. Using her fingers in her pocket to help her count, she reluctantly realised that meant seven hours to endure until freedom returned. Seven and a half hours in the company of her teacher, Mr. Fortitude Jones. She could hardly contain herself.