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Family Album PDF

233 Pages·2009·1.19 MB·English
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001 Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication ALLERSMEAD GINA’S BIRTHDAY PARTY SCISSORS THE SILVER WEDDING THE CELLAR GAME CRACKINGTON HAVEN INGRID THE GERMAN EXCHANGE NIGHT WAVES THE FARMER WANTS A WIFE CLARE INGRID BLACK MARBLE MOTHERCRAFT VOICES ALLERSMEAD BY THE SAME AUTHOR FICTION Consequences Making It Up The Photograph Going Back The Road to Lichfield Treasures of Time Judgment Day Next to Nature, Art Perfect Happiness According to Mark Pack of Cards and Other Stories Moon Tiger Passing On City of the Mind Cleopatra’s Sister Heat Wave Beyond the Blue Mountains Spiderweb AUTOBIOGRAPHY Oleander, Jacaranda: A Childhood Perceived A House Unlocked VIKING Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi-110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Published in 2009 by Viking Penguin, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Copyright © Penelope Lively, 2009 All rights reserved PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA Lively, Penelope, 1933- Family album / Penelope Lively. p. cm. eISBN : 978-1-101-14077-2 1. Children—England—Fiction. 2. Family secrets—Fiction. 3. Domestic fiction. I. Title. PR6062.I89F’.914 —dc22 2009004081 Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. http://us.penguingroup.com To Kay and Stephen ALLERSMEAD Gina turned the car off the road and into the driveway of Allersmead. At this point she seemed to see her entire life flash by. As the drowning are said to do. She thought of this, and that the genuinely drowning can never have been recorded on the matter. Philip, in the passenger seat, saw a substantial Edwardian house, a wide flight of steps up to a front door with stained-glass panels, a weedy sweep of gravel in front. Emphatic trees all around. Sprawling shrubs. Stone urns that spilled lanky geraniums at the bottom of the steps. He had known Gina for six months and had been her lover for five of these. Gina saw Alison standing on the top step, arms raised in rather theatrical greeting. She saw Charles emerge from the hall, staring down at them in what seemed mild surprise. Philip saw a plump smiling elderly woman with hair tumbling untidily from a bun, who was joined by a tall stooped man wearing the kind of tweed jacket that you had thought laid to rest by the 1970s. A large dog shambled at his heels, and slumped down on the top step. Gina saw various specters and dismissed them. Many people spoke, saying things they had been saying for years, and were also wiped. She brought the car to a stop and got out, as did Philip. She said, “Hi, there. This is Philip.” Alison came down the steps, embraced Gina, and beamed upon Philip. “I’m Alison. Lovely to meet you.” Charles simply stood. The dog thumped its tail. Philip took the bags from the boot. He and Gina climbed the steps. Gina said, “Philip, this is Charles—my father.” Charles seemed to consider Philip, as though wondering if he might have seen him before. “And Ingrid,” Gina continued. Philip now saw another woman waiting in the large hall (black-and-white- tiled floor, grandfather clock, umbrella stand, row of pegs loaded with raincoats, oak table strewn with junk mail); a statuesque and somewhat younger woman with fair straight hair and a pink face, holding a garden basket full of greenery. “Ingrid has such a splendid vegetable crop this year,” said Alison. “We have broad beans coming out of our ears.” The house smelled of cooking. You could unravel the constituent ingredients: garlic, herbs, wine—some earthy casserole, a coq au vin perhaps, or a boeuf en daube. Philip observed the staircase with oak banisters, the landing halfway up with window seat and further stained-glass window, the door open into a room apparently filled with books. A big house. A house from the days when people— a kind of person—assumed a big house. Gina experienced nostalgia, exasperation, and a passionate need to be in their flat in Camden, with Philip opening a bottle of something after work. Someone came galloping down the stairs, and halted at the bend, eyes on Gina. “Christ!” he said. “Not you again!” “Sod off,” said Gina amiably. Philip saw grubby jeans, a frayed sweater, and some eerie affinity with Gina. “Honestly, Paul!” cried Alison. “Gina hasn’t been here for over a year.” “It’s called irony,” said Gina. “Not that he’d know that. So how are things, you?” Paul came down the stairs. “Why are you that brown color?” “Africa.” “We saw you on the news,” said Ingrid. “Talking to those people fighting somewhere. Terrible.” “Indeed. Paul—this is Philip.”

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