Aunty Marmalade Read online

  Aunty Marmalade

  Ruth Young

  Eloquent Books

  Copyright © 2009

  All rights reserved – Ruth Young

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, from the publisher.

  Eloquent Books

  An imprint of Strategic Book Group

  P.O. Box 333

  Durham CT 06422

  www.StrategicBookGroup.com

  ISBN: 978-1-61897-000-8

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Charles, Lottie and Olivia, as always.

  It was my first night in a strange bed. I could imagine what it must be like to sleep in custard because this bed was almost too soft and cosy. The wind whispered through the gaps in the windows making the curtains twitch. The house was still and quiet but I could hear the waves rippling on the beach below. I felt myself drifting off to sleep. The sea air made me sleepy. It was then that I heard a soft thud above me coming from the attic. My eyes opened and I felt my heart thump. I dared not breathe. I held my breath. There it was again. A soft thud. Followed by another and another. They were getting louder and nearer. Then they stopped. I strained my ears and lay completely still. I half expected something or someone to fall through the ceiling and land on the bedroom floor but nothing happened. All I could hear was the sound of my breathing.

  Gentle, gentle. Pretend you’re not here.

  Thud, thud this time getting quieter as they moved away from above my room until once again there was silence. I gulped a breath. I sat upright. A shiver went down my spine. I had a feeling someone or something was watching me…

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 1

  I stood on the station platform and I wondered what to do next. I felt the cool sea air and smelt its saltiness. Overhead, seagulls screeched and dived at the fishing boats as they steamed towards the little harbour. The station was deserted. There was no guard like in the old films. I looked at the station name, panicking for a second that I was at the wrong station. But no, it was the right one; so where was Aunty Marmalade?

  I came to Tarlton–on–Sea to stay with Aunty Marmalade while my parents went on a business trip to Australia. Aunty Marmalade was not her real name. It was Madeleine, my godmother, my mum’s unmarried older sister, and she had no children. She was almost identical to my mum and people often thought they were twins. But they were nothing alike in every other way. Aunty M was just one year older and much more fun. Nothing seemed to ever bother her. When I was little, I couldn’t say her name but I could say ‘marmalade’ which I had on my toast. So I was the reason why everyone called her Aunty Marmalade.

  Aunty Marmalade was famous in the family for her amazing hats with fruit and flowers sticking out of the tops and sides. She wore hats to try to control her red frizzy hair which bobbed about as she talked and even after she combed it, it still escaped and did exactly what she didn’t want it to do. My hair was the same. She was really wacky and so unlike my mum. Mum always had her hair cut really short like a boy. Aunty M’s was long and unruly. She loved breaking the rules and not conforming. I thought she was great, easy to be with and great fun. The only problem was she didn’t visit very often and we never visited her. Mum always said she was too busy. She blamed everything on working full time and me.

  “It doesn’t matter how many times I try to tidy your hair, it still does what it wants to,” spat my mum as she dragged a comb through my tangles. “You get more like Aunty Marmalade every day.”

  My mum gave me strict instructions to follow for the journey and the stay because she never trusted me to do anything right. As mum said goodbye to me, she snapped, “Now Florence, when you arrive at the station Aunty Marmalade will be there to meet you.”

  “I don’t really know her that well mum. What will I do if she doesn’t want me for two weeks?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t mind looking after you. She’s my sister for goodness sake. She owes me you know, big time, if only you knew, but that’s another story. Anyway there was no one else to ask. Now listen once more. She will be at the …………”

  I had heard these instructions so many times. I smiled and tried to look like I was listening but I knew it all by heart.

  “Have you remembered your book? Don’t forget to do your holiday diary and don’t let her fill you up with stodge. You look enough like her as it is.”

  “I won’t. I’ll tell her I’m not allowed.”

  “Good. There’s no excuse nowadays to be overweight.”

  “I’ve forgotten my book, Mum.”

  “Florence, how many times do you have to be told? Now what are you going to do?”

  “I could ask Aunty Marmalade to lend me a book.”

  “You are supposed to be no trouble, Florence. Just stay there and keep out of mischief and don’t bother Aunty Marmalade. She’s not used to children. She won’t understand you like I do. You know that. I give up with you. Here’s your train. Try to do as I have asked you for this once. Please.”

  With that she had turned around and stomped away without even a smile, let alone a hug. Why did I always do everything wrong? Why didn’t I just keep quiet about forgetting my book? Why did my mum not like me? Why was I such a nuisance to her?

  I had a sick feeling in my throat and I felt hot and wished I hadn’t put my fleece on under my anorak. It seemed like a good idea when I packed my rucksack, as it was too bulky to fit in to the space on top. Mum told me I had to fit everything in the one bag as I wouldn’t be able to lift a suitcase. My rucksack wasn’t that big so I didn’t have that much with me. I’d have to ask Aunty Marmalade to wash stuff for me.

  “Don’t be a nuisance, Florence.”

  I won’t be. But I will be smelly.

  As all these thoughts and feelings made tears prickle my eyes, I heard a squeal of brakes and saw a cloud of dust just like the genii arriving in the pantomime at Christmas. As the dust settled, I could see an ancient vintage car with huge front lamps and a running board down the side. The door opened and out marched Aunty Marmalade, huffing and puffing towards me, wearing a huge floral tent dress and an old leather pilot’s helmet and goggles.

  Chapter 2

  “Florence, honeybun, I’m sorry I’m late. There was a cow in the road and Farmer Peterson couldn’t get it back in the field. I was stuck in the road for ages. Anyway no damage done and here we are. How are you? You have grown. I would hardly have recognised you. Mind you, it must be at least a year or two since I saw you last.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I felt myself being lifted off my feet and squeezed until I could hardly breathe, but when
I did, I got the familiar smell of lavender that reminded me of her.

  As she released me, I spluttered, “I’m fine and really pleased to see you. At first I thought I’d got off at the wrong station and mum would go ballistic when she found out.”

  “Huh, well you know Florence if you had, we wouldn’t have told her. What she doesn’t know won’t worry her, that’s my way.”

  I looked at Aunty M’s smiling rosy face and I felt better, not so worried.

  “How are you Aunty M?”

  “Fine just ‘spondoolucks’ as always, my dear.”

  With that, she picked up my rucksack and threw it on the back seat of the car next to Biggles; her yellow Labrador. He was also wearing a helmet and goggles like Aunty M. The seat all around him was covered in dog hairs and he was panting and drooling and a pool of slobber built up beside him. He was gorgeous. I had heard of Biggles many times had but never met him. Mum never let him come with Aunty M when she visited us.

  “And that smelly, flea-bitten old mutt she lives with, I wouldn’t let it past the front door,” my mum said.

  As I watched Aunty M tickle his nose with such kindness and fondness, I now realised why we had not had a visit from her for quite some time.

  I got into the front seat and stretched back and stroked Biggles’ head and he licked my hand and then sneezed and I felt wet all over my fingers, better wash my hands before I eat anything.

  Don’t be a nuisance. Keep out of the way. Do as you’re told Florence.

  I could see mum’s steely grey eyes piercing through me, giving me a sense of dread.

  Chapter 3

  We sped along the country lanes and headed out towards the sea on the coast road. High, on what looked like the edge of the cliff, was a very large white house.

  “There’s Apple Jack’s Cottage,” said Aunty M pointing to the house with her stubby finger.

  Apple Jack’s Cottage was old, white, and beautiful. It had five windows on the first floor and four on the ground floor with a huge dark blue front door in the middle with an enormous knocker in the centre. There were at least seven or eight chimneys sticking out of the roof and what looked like up the side. It was in the middle of a large garden which ended abruptly at the edge of the cliff.

  “We’ll have tea and cake first and then I’ll take you up to your room and you can unpack,” said Aunty M, “You must be tired after your journey, but first things first. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  The kitchen was big and cluttered; it was nothing like ours at home which always smelled of bleach and disinfectant. Here, there were pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, jars of home made jams and pickles on shelves that sloped up and down, and I wondered how nothing fell off the end. There were dozens of ancient cookery books, all dog eared and well- read and a delicious smell of chocolate, pizza, and sausages all rolled into one.

  Aunty M put cups and saucers and matching plates on the table and those small silver pastry forks that people had years ago and I had seen in a Victorian museum on a school trip. Then, she cut two enormous wedges of the tallest chocolate cream cake I had ever seen, put it on the plates, and drizzled runny chocolate sauce all over the top. She pushed one of the plates towards me.

  “Tuck in,” she sniggered with a naughty giggle.

  I put a forkful in my mouth. I got a funny sensation in the back of my throat and my mouth filled with saliva. It was delicious and chocolaty. I had never tasted anything like this before. It dissolved in my mouth and I swallowed. I shoved another forkful in my mouth.

  “Mum wouldn’t approve of this cake,” I said and realised that at home, I’d get another telling off for speaking with my mouth full.

  “Your Mum has gone very healthy. She used to tuck into chocolate cake when we were kids, you know. It’s a shame she became so serious. She used to have a really infectious giggle years ago. We were always getting into scrapes together. I have no intention of ever growing up, let alone becoming serious.”

  “Really? I don’t want to grow up either.” I looked across the table at Aunty M who now had chocolate coated lips which she then wiped with the back of her hand. And as I had finished too, I did the same.

  Chapter 4

  I followed Aunty M up the central staircase. We turned right at the top and walked to the far end of the long landing and she opened the last door. Inside, the room was all white with a blue border just below the ceiling. As I looked more closely, I could see the border was a line of fish, mermaids, and all sorts of sea creatures all intertwined. This pattern was on the bedcover, curtains, and painted on the wardrobe and the chest of drawers. In front of the window was a dressing table with curtains around the drawers. On top was a posy of wild flowers in a little blue pot and a brush, comb, and mirror with blue flowers embroidered on them. The window was open and I could hear the waves crashing on the beach below and the calls of the seagulls as they fished in the breakers.

  In the corner of the room were some shelves that went right up to the ceiling. Each shelf had a few books, seaside mementoes, and peculiar looking wooden objects on it. As I looked more closely I realised the shelves got narrower as they went up.

  “This was your mum’s room when we were little,” said Aunty M as she grabbed the pillows on the bed and puffed them up turning them over and over until they were so high that my head would never reach them tonight. It seemed strange looking around the room now knowing that it had been mum’s room. The room was pretty and girlie. Our house was so white and not fussy at all with only the bare minimum of furniture.

  “Mum doesn’t talk about when she was little. She’s always so busy at work so I’ve found it easier not to bother her unless I really have to,” I commented as I stood on tip-toes to look at the view from the window.

  “That’s the trouble today. Everyone is so busy and no one has time to talk anymore. I had guessed that things may not be too easy for you at home. Your mum is granny-like, very bossy with a very sharp temper.”

  “It’s Ok really but I’ll be glad to go to boarding school in September because she won’t have me to worry about. I won’t feel so bad then.” I didn’t want to sound too disloyal, but I meant what I said.

  “That’s the ticket and I hope that will mean that you’ll come and stay whenever you can in the holidays and we can eat everything that’s bad for us and stay up late and read Hello and OK Magazine and we won’t tell a soul because nobody needs to know.”

  I said that sounded great.

  Chapter 5

  The rest of the day, we spent walking Biggles along the beach to the rocks at the end of the cove.

  “So how is school these days?”

  “It’s Ok but I’ll be glad to leave. I’m the only one going to St Maur’s in my class so I won’t know anyone.”

  “It will be a fresh start then for you. That’s never a bad thing. I understand from mum that you have done really well to get a place at St Maur’s.”

  “I am pleased to get a place. I’m going to really try hard there to please mum.”

  That evening after dinner, Aunty Marmalade went to finish her painting in her studio. She painted pictures of the sea’s countryside which she then sold in a local gallery. Her studio and bedroom was at the far end of the long landing at the opposite end from me. I had seen one of her pictures hanging along the landing. I wasn’t sure whether I liked it or not because all the colours were bright and not like the real thing at all. It was a landscape and the odd thing too was the trees had pineapples and bananas growing on them. I’d never seen fruit like that growing in England, but I didn’t say anything of course, only that I liked them.

  I lay on my bed listening to my ipod and flicking through my Mizz magazine. There was a really good bit about what to wear in the summer and a free eye shadow and brush. Aunty M said that I could try it out in the morning. It was great to be treated a bit grown up. She said there was no reason why I couldn’t keep it on all day.

  That night, I woke with a start. I wasn’t sure at fir
st what had woken me up. The wind was howling through the window as the weather had gotten worse since this afternoon. I heard something crack and what sounded like a whisper. I couldn’t tell what was said. I strained my ears, annoyed that the wind was gusting now and making it hard to hear clearly. Then as the wind subsided, I definitely heard someone say,

  “Florence.”

  It was then I heard steps. I couldn’t tell whether they were coming from the landing or above me in the attic. It must be Aunty Marmalade. I got up and walked to the door and slowly, it creaked open. Silence. There was no noise on the landing. Aunty Marmalade was certainly nowhere to be seen. It couldn’t be her. She would have called again if she wanted me, but why would she want me anyway? I glanced at the digital clock. The red numbers glowed 1:30. Suddenly scared, I ran back to bed and lay there listening, wanting to hear and yet not wanting to hear. I tried to convince myself that it was just the wind playing tricks on my mind. Perhaps I had dreamed it. I know dreams can feel very real. I know sometimes you’re asleep but you think you’re awake. But I knew this time, I was awake and I had heard my name whispered. I closed my eyes and counted sheep. By the time I got to fifty-eight, my eyes felt heavy. My room was silent once more but I felt unnerved. I had a real feeling that someone was trying to contact me.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning after breakfast, I went back upstairs to my room. I heard a little tap on the door. The door nudged open and in came Aunty M. I unplugged my ipod from my ears and fluttered my eyelids showing off the eye shadow.

  “Very glam I must say,’ said Aunty M fluttering back.”

  “What do you think? Do I look daft or does it suit me?”

  “I think you look lovely. The colour brings out the colour of your eyes and makes them look bigger. Now, I need to paint again today. I have to finish off two paintings I’m exhibiting at the Annual Arts and Crafts Show at the weekend.”