A Waltz for Matilda Read Online Free

dress was Mum’s too, the hem hastily taken up and the sides tacked in. ‘No point cutting good cloth,’ said Mrs Dawkins, when it could be let out again later as Matilda grew.
    Tommy’s bed was at the end of the row of neat grey blankets and white sheets, and men’s white faces too. Tommy looked younger and smaller, somehow, on the starched pillow. One side of his face was still puckered and red, but at least the jam had missed his eyes. She looked down at his hand. His arm was still bandaged, but now he held a small rubber ball in his fingers. She could see the sweat on his forehead as he tried to clasp it.
    ‘You should wait till your hand has healed.’
    He looked up at her and tried to smile, one half of his face twisting while the other stayed still.
    ‘I need to stretch it before the scars set. I was reading about a cove who kept working on his muscles when his leg was crushed. Got his leg working again after six months. Arms and legs are just like machines, except they got muscles and tendons instead of cogs and pulleys.’
    It was so like Tommy to have read how arms and legs worked. ‘I’m sorry. I should have bought you grapes or something.’
    ‘Ma brought those.’ He gestured to the bowl by his bed. ‘Go on, eat them. I’m that sick of grapes.’
    ‘I’m not hungry.’
    ‘Eat them.’ The voice was gentle, but firm. She nodded. It was funny, everyone wanted to feed her now, even Mrs Dawkins, but her appetite had gone.
    ‘How was …’
    ‘The funeral.’ She forced herself to eat another grape. ‘It was just me and Mrs Dawkins. But it was a proper coffin, not a pauper’s. I pawned Mum’s wedding ring.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I’ll get it back one day. Bury it with her.’
    He nodded. ‘What now?’
    ‘I don’t know. Mrs Dawkins has let our room to someone else. I’m sleeping with her Monica. She says I can stay, as long as I go on working at the factory. My wages will pay for my keep.’ She shrugged. ‘Or I can go to the Destitute Children’s Home.’
    ‘No!’
    She gave up on the grapes. ‘I heard they send the orphans to school.’
    ‘Only till they’re big enough to work. They’d farm you out as a maidservant, working all hours just for your keep.’
    ‘Oh,’ she said slowly, ‘I didn’t know.’
    He sat forward, grunting a little with the pain, and reached out to her with his good hand. ‘Stay at the factory for now. Maybe … maybe you can live with us. I’ll be out of here soon.’
    No, you won’t, she thought. And when you do you’ll need nursing. She’d met his ma two days ago, thin-faced and anxious. She’d thanked Matilda over and over for saving her son. But she had eight children already in that small house, and nowTommy not working. Matilda couldn’t add another burden to that tired face.
    She said steadily, ‘There’s one other thing that I can do.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Go to my father.’
    Tommy stared. ‘You don’t know where he is.’
    ‘Of course I know where his farm is. It’s called Moura, north of Gibber’s Creek.’
    ‘Gibber’s Creek! That’s beyond the black stump.’
    ‘What stump?’
    He gestured with his good hand. ‘Just a saying. But Gibber’s Creek’s hundreds of miles away from here.’
    ‘I know. I found it on the map when I was at school. But even if he’s not there, there has to be someone looking after his farm. Don’t you see,’ she added urgently, ‘it makes sense.’
    ‘No, it doesn’t. Write to him, send a telegram, and wait for him to come to you.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    Matilda sat silently. She wasn’t even sure she knew the answer. Just that so much she loved had vanished. Mum, Aunt Ann, even Tommy, though he’d come back (wouldn’t he?). She needed something of her own, and there was only one thing left.
    Her father.
    ‘You don’t even know how to get there.’
    ‘There’s a train.’
    ‘The train’ll only take you as far as Drinkwater. That’s just a big property, not even a