Giant’s Bread · Book I · II · Chapter 1 2 3

III

There was a sudden interruption. His mother stood in the doorway. Her eyes were swollen with crying. She dabbed them with a handkerchief. She stood there theatrically miserable.

“He’s gone,” she cried. “Without a word to me. Without a word. Oh! my little son. My little son.”

She swept across the floor and gathered Vernon in her arms. The tower, at least one storey higher than any he had ever built before, crashed into ruins. His mother’s voice, loud and distraught, burrowed into his ear.

“My child⁠—my little son⁠—swear that you’ll never forsake me. Swear it⁠—swear it.”

Nurse came across to them.

“There, ma’am, there, ma’am, don’t take on so. You’d better get back to bed. Edith shall bring you a nice cup of hot tea.”

Her tone was authoritative⁠—severe.

His mother still sobbed and clasped him closer. Vernon’s whole body began to stiffen in resistance. He could bear it a little while longer⁠—a very little while longer⁠—and he’d do anything Mummy wanted if only she’d let go of him.

“You must make up to me, Vernon⁠—make up to me for the suffering your father has caused me. Oh! my God, what shall I do?”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Vernon was aware of Katie, silent, ecstatic, enjoying the scene.

“Come along, ma’am,” said Nurse. “You’ll only upset the child.”

The authority in her voice was so marked this time that Vernon’s mother succumbed to it. Leaning weakly on Nurse’s arm, she allowed herself to be led from the room.

Nurse returned a few minutes later very red in the face.

“My,” said Katie, “didn’t she take on? Regular hysterics⁠—that’s what they call it! Well, this has been a to-do! You don’t think she’ll do a mischief to herself, do you? Those nasty ponds in the garden. The Master is a one⁠—not that he hasn’t a lot to put up with from Her. All them scenes and tantrums⁠—”

“That’ll do, my girl,” said Nurse. “You can get back to your work, and under-servants discussing a matter of this kind with their betters is a thing that I’ve never known take place in a gentleman’s house. Your mother ought to have trained you better.”

With a toss of her head, Katie withdrew. Nurse moved round the nursery table, shifting cups and plates with unwonted sharpness. Her lips moved, muttering to herself.

“Putting ideas into the child’s head. I’ve no patience with it⁠ ⁠…”