who'd made her life a misery for weeks.
She was about to knock on the door when it opened, and Sylvia regarded her haughtily. There was an ugly red scratch on her creamy cheek. The two girls stared at each other.
'Hello,' Annie said awkwardly.
'Hello. I was wondering if you'd come. I've been watching you across the road for ages.' Sylvia gestured towards the window.
Annie took a deep breath. 'I came to say it wasn't me. I knew nothing about it till afterwards. Are you badly hurt.?'
'Did they send you to find out?' Sylvia looked angry. 'I wouldn't have thought they cared.'
'No!' Annie said quickly. 'I came of me own accord. They don't know I'm here - not that it'd worry me if they did.'
'If you must know, there are tiny scratches all over my head. It's a good thing I went in backwards or I could have been blinded.' She shuddered. 'The scratch on my cheek happened when I was being pulled out. Cecy will have a fit. I've managed to avoid her so far.'
'I'm awful sorry,' Annie mumbled.
'Are you truly?' Sylvia looked at her keenly.
Annie nodded her head. 'I'm sorry about everything.'
Sylvia's lovely face broke into a smile. 'In that case, why don't you come in and sit down, Annie - it is Annie, isn't it?'
'That's right.' Annie entered the room and sat in an armchair. The suede coat Sylvia had been wearing lay over the arm.
'I think my coat's ruined,' Sylvia said sadly. 'Bruno bought it for me because he said England would be cold.'
Annie saw the coat was scored with little jagged marks. 'Bruno?'
'My father. It cost two hundred thousand lire.'
'Jaysus!'
Sylvia laughed. It was an attractive laugh, like everything else about her, deep and faintly musical. 'That's not as expensive as it sounds, about a hundred pounds in English money.'
'Jaysus!' Annie said again. Her coat had cost £8.9S.iid. 'If you use a wire brush, the marks won't show so much.'
'Perhaps,' Sylvia shrugged. 'It's my own fault. I was only showing off. I wore my most elegant dress and Cecy's boots as a way of thumbing my nose at those awful girls. Why should I look drab to please them?'
It was Annie's turn to laugh. She forgot that until very recently she'd been one of the awful girls herself, albeit unwillingly. 'You couldn't look drab if you tried!'
Sylvia tossed her head conceitedly and looked pleased. Her eyes met Annie's for a long moment, and in that moment, Annie knew the ice had been broken. There was no need for more explanations and apologies. Sylvia had forgiven her and from now on they would be friends.
'Is this room all yours.''' Annie had only just noticed the bed tucked underneath the white sloping ceiling. The room was large, almost twenty feet square, thickly carpeted from wall to wall in cream. Somewhat incredibly, because Annie was unaware such a thing was possible, the fresh daisy-sprigged wallpaper was exactly the same pattern as the frilly curtains and the cover on the bed. There were a wardrobe and dressing table in pale creamy wood, a desk and two armchairs.
'It's what's called a bedsitting room,' explained Sylvia.
'It's dead gorgeous!' Annie breathed. 'It's like a film
star's.' Sylvia even had her own gramophone with a stack of records underneath. Amidst the paraphernaHa on the dressing table, the silver-backed mirror and hairbrush, several bottles of perfume and pretty glass ornaments, stood a pearl crucifix with a gold figure of Jesus. Sylvia was Catholic. It meant they had something in common.
'What's that?' She pointed to a small wooden shield on the wall.
'Our family coat of arms,' Sylvia explained. 'Please don't tell anyone at school, but my father is a Count. He has another, much larger shield in the bar, and thinks it a great joke to tell everyone he's a Count, then tell them he's a communist. Bruno is very gregarious; he loves arguing, particularly about politics. That's why he bought the Grand, so he would have an audience for his views. He's not interested in money. We already have pans.'
'Pots,' said Annie.
She was about to knock on the door when it opened, and Sylvia regarded her haughtily. There was an ugly red scratch on her creamy cheek. The two girls stared at each other.
'Hello,' Annie said awkwardly.
'Hello. I was wondering if you'd come. I've been watching you across the road for ages.' Sylvia gestured towards the window.
Annie took a deep breath. 'I came to say it wasn't me. I knew nothing about it till afterwards. Are you badly hurt.?'
'Did they send you to find out?' Sylvia looked angry. 'I wouldn't have thought they cared.'
'No!' Annie said quickly. 'I came of me own accord. They don't know I'm here - not that it'd worry me if they did.'
'If you must know, there are tiny scratches all over my head. It's a good thing I went in backwards or I could have been blinded.' She shuddered. 'The scratch on my cheek happened when I was being pulled out. Cecy will have a fit. I've managed to avoid her so far.'
'I'm awful sorry,' Annie mumbled.
'Are you truly?' Sylvia looked at her keenly.
Annie nodded her head. 'I'm sorry about everything.'
Sylvia's lovely face broke into a smile. 'In that case, why don't you come in and sit down, Annie - it is Annie, isn't it?'
'That's right.' Annie entered the room and sat in an armchair. The suede coat Sylvia had been wearing lay over the arm.
'I think my coat's ruined,' Sylvia said sadly. 'Bruno bought it for me because he said England would be cold.'
Annie saw the coat was scored with little jagged marks. 'Bruno?'
'My father. It cost two hundred thousand lire.'
'Jaysus!'
Sylvia laughed. It was an attractive laugh, like everything else about her, deep and faintly musical. 'That's not as expensive as it sounds, about a hundred pounds in English money.'
'Jaysus!' Annie said again. Her coat had cost £8.9S.iid. 'If you use a wire brush, the marks won't show so much.'
'Perhaps,' Sylvia shrugged. 'It's my own fault. I was only showing off. I wore my most elegant dress and Cecy's boots as a way of thumbing my nose at those awful girls. Why should I look drab to please them?'
It was Annie's turn to laugh. She forgot that until very recently she'd been one of the awful girls herself, albeit unwillingly. 'You couldn't look drab if you tried!'
Sylvia tossed her head conceitedly and looked pleased. Her eyes met Annie's for a long moment, and in that moment, Annie knew the ice had been broken. There was no need for more explanations and apologies. Sylvia had forgiven her and from now on they would be friends.
'Is this room all yours.''' Annie had only just noticed the bed tucked underneath the white sloping ceiling. The room was large, almost twenty feet square, thickly carpeted from wall to wall in cream. Somewhat incredibly, because Annie was unaware such a thing was possible, the fresh daisy-sprigged wallpaper was exactly the same pattern as the frilly curtains and the cover on the bed. There were a wardrobe and dressing table in pale creamy wood, a desk and two armchairs.
'It's what's called a bedsitting room,' explained Sylvia.
'It's dead gorgeous!' Annie breathed. 'It's like a film
star's.' Sylvia even had her own gramophone with a stack of records underneath. Amidst the paraphernaHa on the dressing table, the silver-backed mirror and hairbrush, several bottles of perfume and pretty glass ornaments, stood a pearl crucifix with a gold figure of Jesus. Sylvia was Catholic. It meant they had something in common.
'What's that?' She pointed to a small wooden shield on the wall.
'Our family coat of arms,' Sylvia explained. 'Please don't tell anyone at school, but my father is a Count. He has another, much larger shield in the bar, and thinks it a great joke to tell everyone he's a Count, then tell them he's a communist. Bruno is very gregarious; he loves arguing, particularly about politics. That's why he bought the Grand, so he would have an audience for his views. He's not interested in money. We already have pans.'
'Pots,' said Annie.
Similar Books
