"House On Parchment Street" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

the wax statue of a small old woman in black, with spectacles on her nose and a fringed shawl about her shoulders. She looked oddly out of place among the richly dressed dignitaries of past ages. "Who is that?"
Uncle Harold smiled. "That is Madame Tussaud. She made that statue of herself over a hundred years ago. It was she who made the first statues for this museum."
They had supper, and then Uncle Harold took them to a play. The play had a prince dressed in mournful black who saw an armed ghost, and the ghost spoke of foul murder by poison and would not stay past dawn. Carol watched quietly until the ghost vanished; then she leaned over and whispered in Bruce's ear, "Maybe the man with the sword murdered Edward."
"Sh." After a moment he whispered back, "Maybe Edward killed the man with the sword." "Maybe the girlЧ"
"ShЧ" said someone behind, and they quieted. "One may smile and smile," said the prince, "and be a villain."
The play ended with his death. Soldiers came to carry his dead body off-stage, and then the lights went on, and people clapped, and he came back on his own feet, smiling and bowing. Carol looked at Bruce.
"Do you remember the part where Hamlet was with his mother, and he saw the ghost, but his mother couldn't see it?"
"It's only a play."
"I know, but it happened to him. And it happened to us. I wonder why ghosts do that."
Bruce yawned. "I don't know. I expect he was imagining the whole thing."
"He was not." She stood up and followed Uncle Harold out.
"Did you enjoy it?" he said.
"Yes. But I didn't expect everyone to die in the end."
Uncle Harold found the car keys and unlocked the car. "In Shakespeare's day they rather enjoyed stages full of dead bodies."
"Well I enjoyed it, too. But it was still sad."
They drove around the city the next day and visited great ancient buildings with a bewildering array of names: the Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace. When they got to Westminister Cathedral, their feet began to hurt. Carol looked at it, shifting from one foot to another. It was a vast building, striped red and white, with round arched windows, and domes, and many-sided towers. "It's so bigЕ ." Carol said. It ran the length of the city block. Uncle Harold laughed.
"All right. It can wait for another trip. You've seen enough tombs for one day."
They had some lunch, and then started back. Carol slept most of the way. She woke finally and saw in the distance a small town of grey stone houses and
outlying farms and a church on a hill in the middle of it, the grey spire rising clear of the trees.
"We're home," Uncle Harold said cheerfully. And beside Carol, Bruce slouched lower in the seat, his hands in his pockets, and she heard the slow whisper of his sigh.
VI.
A GREEN VAN HAD TAKEN UNCLE HAROLD'S PARKING
place in front of the gate.
"What on earthЧ" Uncle Harold said. He parked behind it. The closed doors of the van said in bright orange letters: MIDDLETON CIVIL SEWAGE. "Is something wrong with our plumbing?"
"Perhaps someone broke a water pipe," Aunt Catherine said. "I don't think the city would be interested in our plumbing."
They got out and collected suitcases from the trunk. Two men stood at the edge of the field where the road ended and watched them. Uncle Harold went over to talk to them. The church bells rang the half-hour. Bruce looked at his watch.
"What time is it? My watch stopped."
"Four-thirty," Aunt Catherine said. "Bruce, will you
take your father's suitcase in, please. Hello, Emily."
"Hello, my dear," Emily Raison said. "Did you have a nice stay?"
"Yes, it was very nice. What are the plumbers doing here?"
"Oh, my dear, we're in for a bit of noise. They're going to put a drain in the street."
"A drain? What for? Nobody's drowned yet in this neighborhood, and it's been here for centuries."
"They say the street slants, and all the rain goes into the field, and it makes the field muddy when they want to practice soccer. We've had a lot of rain this summer, you know. Bless meЧBruce, what did you do to your poor face?"
"I fell in a blackberry bush," Bruce said patiently.
"Oh, it looks terrible. You're so lucky you still have your eyes. My Uncle Herbert had to have a glass eye when he ran into a nail in a fence. But he was poaching." She turned back to Aunt Catherine. "Well, my dear, I expect you want to go in and have a nice hot cup of tea after that long drive."
"And a footstool under each foot," Aunt Catherine said. "Only Harold has the house keys."
Carol sat down on her suitcase. Uncle Harold came back and she stood up.
"Do you know what they're going to do?" he said indignantly.
"Yes. Emily told us."
"I've never heard anything so ridiculous. They'd
make a man's home unfit for living in for two weeks, just so they can get rid of a few mud puddles."
"I know," Aunt Catherine said soothingly. "You'd think they never heard of rubbers."
"I won't be able to write a word."
"I know."
"I won't be able to think!"
"Maybe you could find something else to do for a while. Meanwhile, if I don't get off my blistered feet, you're going to have to carry me over the threshold, suitcase and all."
"Oh." He looked down at the keys in his hand. "I was wondering why you were all standing out here. I'm sorry. Shall I go down later for fish and chips? It will save you cooking."
She smiled. "That would be lovely."
Carol sat in her window-seat after dinner, with a postcard of the Tower of London on the windowsill in front of her. She frowned over it, nibbling on her pen. Finally she wrote "Dear Mom and Dad," and somebody knocked on her door.