The Diddakoi by Rumer Godden

use buying too cheaply.’ She peeled off four notes and gave him back the rest. ‘Thank you,
Admiral.’
    ‘Thank you. ’ It was heartfelt and, as he turned from the cottage, ‘That’s done,’ said Admiral Twiss, relieved. Somehow it never crossed his mind not to trust
Miss Brooke.
    The clothes arrived in boxes from London and were so pretty Kizzy forgot they brought school nearer. There were three sets of underclothes, pink, blue, white, scattered with flowers: two skirts,
one plaid, one cherry red, as if Miss Brooke knew she liked bright colours; there were jerseys, a warm cardigan, a pair of walking shoes and a red pair to wear in the house – Kizzy had never
had shoes before, only boots. She was puzzled by the handkerchiefs. ‘Thought they were for wearing round her neck,’ Peters told the Admiral. ‘Only they’re too small,’
said Kizzy. ‘What are they for?’ and, when Peters told her, ‘Blow your nose on a handkerchief !’ Kizzy was shocked. ‘I have a finger and thumb, haven’t
I?’ she wanted to say. ‘Or else my skirt.’
    She went in to the Admiral: ‘Thank you for choosing my clothes.’
    ‘I didn’t choose them.’
    Kizzy’s head jerked up. ‘Who did?’
    ‘Miss Brooke. A nice lady.’
    Kizzy scowled. ‘I don’t like nice ladies.’
    When she was dressed and looked at herself in a long mirror, she only recognized herself by her curls and the gold rings in her ears. She had grown taller and thinner – and paler, thought
Kizzy, or was that because she was washed? Gran had washed her each night before she went to bed, carrying the water in a bucket, but here it was not only every day, ‘Three times a
day,’ said Kizzy – and at night in a bathtub. She sniffed her hands; they smelled freshly of soap and a longing swept over her for the old smell of wood smoke, of open air and Joe.
‘When can we go back?’ Kizzy could have cried. It was then she had her second visitor.
    The Easter holidays had started and, ‘I’m going to the House,’ Clem Oliver told his mother.
    ‘Do you think you should?’ Mrs Oliver was doubtful.
    ‘I’m a boy . . . Admiral Twiss won’t mind and that little girl’s my friend,’ and, sure enough, Kizzy broke into one of her rare smiles when Peters brought Clem up.
‘Clem! You’ve come to see me !’ She was dazzled.
    ‘Sure,’ said Clem, and, ‘What a house!’ he said. ‘ What a house!’
    ‘Is it?’ asked Kizzy. She did not know enough about houses to judge. ‘It’s nice and old.’
    She meant that Amberhurst House, in spite of its grandeur, was comfortably shabby. ‘Well, generations of us have lived here,’ Admiral Twiss would have said but, ‘I
wouldn’t like to,’ said Clem. Coming from his bustling crowded farmhouse home, Amberhurst seemed huge and empty to Clem. Admiral Twiss, he thought, must be lonely. The kitchens where
Clem had come in and this nursery wing above it were smaller, warmer, more homely but, ‘Think of coming down that great stone staircase for breakfast,’ said Clem, ‘and having it
at that long table with the big silver candlesticks – one little place at the end.’ Clem had seen it when Peters took him in to the Admiral. ‘And libraries and drawing rooms, a billiard
room, a gunroom. His bedroom must have empty rooms all round it – and all them portraits staring down at you. No, thank you,’ said Clem, yet Amberhurst was friendly to him.
    He had tea in the kitchen with Kizzy Nat and Peters. ‘Mr Peters made us sausages and chips and he made scones. He can cook as well as you, Mum,’ Clem told his mother. Admiral Twiss
was not there; he dined alone at eight, but after tea he showed Clem his racing cups, his fishing-rods – he promised to let Clem fish the lake and trout stream – and the workshop where
he made his models. ‘Cor! it was fascinating,’ Clem told at home. ‘He’s making a tug, it’ll work with real steam. You should see it.’
    Kizzy was pleased – and flattered –