The Listmaker Read Online Free

manicure scissors, leaving just the lining. That had transformed it into a very plain sheath dress, much more sophisticated than anyone else was wearing.)
    â€˜But I bought some new towels to celebrate our first night in Avian Cottage,’ Aunty Nat protested. ‘You deserve a nice one, love, after all your hard work showing Cam and Scotty where the furniture should go. Let’s see, perhaps they’re in this carton marked
T2
.’
    â€˜I think that’s your tapestries – or maybe tableware stuff. If we only had that master list …’
    â€˜Quality towels they were, too; those ones that look like velour. Watermelon-pink for my ensuite, moss-green for you and Dorothy in the downstairs bathroom. Because of all those darling little ferns peeping in at the windows, you know.’
    â€˜They aren’t little or darling, Aunty Nat. They’re huge great frondy things,’ I said. ‘And talking about moss, I think it could be a bit damp downstairs. There’s a funny smell.’
    â€˜Old houses are always on the nose after they’ve been closed up for any length of time. I’m sure it’s only due to that. The agent said Avian Cottage is in fair enough condition if you take its age into account.’
    I thought about producing my list of repairs, but it somehow seemed picky when she was so delighted at finally being in her dream house with everything unloaded, the van gone, and weeks of contented pottering to look forward to. She kept flitting about now to admire things she’d only just noticed, like a row of brass owl hooks behind the kitchen door. And for all I knew, the house
was
in good condition for its age.
    The same thing, I suppose, could be said about Aunty Nat herself. She and Dorothy had been my mother’s aunts, really, but Great-aunt was too much of a mouthful to say. For someone over sixty, she was very vain about her appearance, going to the hairdresser once a week. The hairdresser had invented this particular colour rinse for her, like rose-hip syrup. She wore rose-pink lipstick to match, mist-blue eyeshadow and floaty scarves. You had to give her credit for trying, although Piriel had remarked to me on one occasion that Aunty Nat really should do something about getting her weight down. Piriel claimed that all weight problems could be controlled by strict diet and a fitness program. I couldn’t imagine
her
ever losing her figure, but Aunty Nat was as plump and round as Horace.
    I’d been trying all day not to think about poor old Horace! You get very attached to a cat you’ve had for years, even if you see them only at weekends and in term holidays. Although he was officially mine, he’d always lived with the aunts because of Dad being away so often. (In fact Dad didn’t like cats, and it was the aunts who’d actually given me Horace in the first place.) It had been their suggestion that Horace should stay overnight at the nearest vet’s for this move, so he wouldn’t get agitated by all the furniture being taken out of the only house he’d ever known. But I suspected he’d be just as agitated by having to spend a night at the vet’s! Horace liked routine. He’d get upset even if his food bowl was moved to a different spot, or if a favourite cushion was at the wrong end of the couch. He
hated
change – though soon there’d be another one in his life, when I took him with me to live in the city apartment. He’d have to be trained to use a litter tray before then, too, and I wasn’t sure how he’d take to that idea.
    â€˜It’s certainly been a long day,’ Aunty Nat said. ‘I know it’s not even dark yet, but having an early night seems like a good idea. Dorothy’s mooning around outside somewhere, so maybe you could fetch her back in.’
    Aunt Dorothy was hard to find in that big garden. Threading a way along the paths was like playing hopscotch. They kept