Under the Green Hill Read Online Free

hurt to have another along. You said they have a big house. Rhys’s boy’s a round one, but not too tall. Won’t take up much room, and that grandmother or whatever of yours can put ’im on a diet. Works out well all around.” His voice, accustomed to filling a vast lecture hall, echoed through the terminal. Several people stopped to stare.
    Tom Morgan looked as if he might explode, but his wife, seeing how miserable Dickie was, gritted her teeth and said, in the low voice she reserved for her darkest moods, “Of course Professor Rhys’s son is welcome.” And in a very motherly way she drew Dickie into her own fold, away from the Fachans. But to herself, she wondered what kind of impression this caravan of children would make on her relatives. Years—generations—of the most sporadic contact, and then this. We’ll be disowned, she thought. Then she corrected herself. That had already happened decades ago, when her grandmother Chlorinda Ash left England under circumstances that were never spoken of, though occasionally alluded to.
    Many embraces and a few secret tears later, they were through security and all aboard. When the Fasten Seatbelt sign was turned off, the Morgans had a visitor.
    Sauntering down the aisle from first class, carrying a glass of something that to Rowan looked suspiciously like champagne (though it was actually ginger ale), came Finn. He lounged against the seat in front of them, and looked down at the Morgans.
    â€œEnjoying your seats in steerage?” he asked, oblivious of the resentful looks the other economy-class passengers were giving him. “I’d bring you my leftover filet mignon in a doggy bag, but the waitress said it would only stir up rebellion. What are they feeding you back here?” He looked with some distaste at the limp salad and questionable chicken sitting on Meg’s tray. “Hmm, yes. Well, as my father says, you get what you pay for. So what can I expect from this place we’re headed? Father says it’s in the middle of nowhere.”
    â€œMother says it’s very pretty there,” Meg began, not quite looking at Finn.
    Finn looked disgusted at the very idea. “I mean, what’s fun? There’s a town, right? Is there a movie theater? An arcade?”
    â€œI don’t think so, Finn,” Rowan said, more inclined to sound pleasant in the middle of a crowded plane than he might otherwise.
    â€œWell, Father set up a bank account for me there, so money won’t be an obstacle. And I’ve brought my collection of video games and DVDs, so even if there’s nothing to do the summer won’t be a total loss. Did you know there’re only a few channels on British TV? Maybe if you’re good little boys and girls I’ll let you play some of my video games. If only so I can see how lousy you are at them.”
    As you might imagine, it gave Rowan real pleasure to reveal the following fact: “Sorry, Finn. They don’t have electricity at the Rookery. It’s an authentic old manor, and they haven’t allowed improvements. Hope your collection wasn’t too heavy.”
    Finn’s jaw gaped slightly, and for a moment he was at a loss for words. At last, sounding a bit less cocky than before, he said, “Doesn’t matter if they’re heavy. I can pay a porter to carry them.” He managed to maintain his composure better than the Morgan children would have liked, but they could tell he was thinking of the grim prospect of being cooped up in a place without electronic diversions all summer.
    â€œI’m going back where I belong,” Finn said loftily, and returned to his seat.
    Many tush-numbing hours later, the plane touched ground and taxied up to the terminal. It was midmorning local time, and the children, wrinkled and bone-weary from their confinement, filed out. There was a peculiar light in their eyes that came from not sleeping, and knowing that they