Kitabı oku: «Таинственный сад / The Secret Garden. B1», sayfa 2

‘You’re going home soon,’ said Basil. ‘And we’re all very pleased you’re leaving!’

‘I’m pleased too,’ replied Mary. ‘But where’s home?’

‘You’re stupid if you don’t know that!’ laughed Basil. ‘England, of course! You’re going to live with your uncle, Mr Archibald Craven.’

‘I’ve never heard of him,’ said Mary coldly.

‘But I know about him because I heard Father and Mother talking,’ said Basil. ‘He lives in a big lonely old house, and has no friends, because he’s so bad-tempered. He’s got a crooked back and he’s horrid!’

‘I don’t believe you!’ cried Mary. But the next day Basil’s parents explained that she was going to live with her uncle in Yorkshire, in the north of England. Mary looked bored and cross and said nothing.

After the long sea journey, she was met in London by Mr Craven’s housekeeper, Mrs Medlock. Together they travelled north by train. Mrs Medlock was a large woman, with a very red face and bright black eyes. Mary did not like her, but that was not surprising, because she did not usually like people. Mrs Medlock did not like Mary either.

‘What a disagreeable child!’ thought the housekeeper. ‘But perhaps I should talk to her.’

‘I can tell you a bit about your uncle if you like,’ she said aloud. ‘He lives in a big old house, a long way from anywhere. There are nearly a hundred rooms, but most of them are shut and locked. There’s a big park round the house, and all kinds of gardens. Well, what do you think of that?’

‘Nothing,’ replied Mary. ‘It doesn’t matter to me.’

Mrs Medlock laughed. ‘You’re a hard little girl! Well, if you don’t care, Mr Craven doesn’t either. He never spends time on anyone. He’s got a crooked back, you see, and although he’s always been rich, he was never really happy until he married.’

‘Married?’ repeated Mary in surprise.

‘Yes, he married a sweet, pretty girl, and he loved her very much. So when she died-’

‘Oh! Did she die?’ asked Mary, interested.

‘Yes, she did. And now he doesn’t care about anybody. If he’s at home, he stays in his room and sees nobody. He won’t want to see you, so you must stay out of his way and do what you’re told.’

Mary stared out of the train window at the grey sky and the rain. She was not looking forward to living at her uncle’s house.

The train journey lasted all day, and it was dark when they arrived at the station. Then there was a long drive to get to the house. It was a cold, windy night, and it was raining heavily. After a while Mary began to hear a strange, wild noise. She looked out of the window, but could see nothing except the darkness. ‘What’s that noise?’ she asked Mrs Medlock. ‘It’s – It’s not the sea, is it?’

‘No, that’s the moor. It’s the sound the wind makes, blowing across the moor.’

‘What is a moor?’

‘It’s just miles and miles of wild land, with no trees or houses. Your uncle’s house is right on the edge of the moor.’

Mary listened to the strange, frightening sound. ‘I don’t like it,’ she thought. ‘I don’t like it.’ She looked more disagreeable than ever.

Glossary:

official – крупный чиновник

disagreeable – с дурным характером

bad-tempered – раздражительный

crossly – раздраженно

cry – крик

wildly – сильно

all through the night – всю ночь

all alone – совсем одна

scream – кричать

horrid – ужасный

crooked – кривой

housekeeper – экономка

a long way – далеко

stay out of his way – держаться подальше от него

stare – пристально смотреть

darkness – темнота

moor – болото

Chapter 2
Mary in Yorkshire

They arrived at a very large old house. It looked dark and unfriendly from the outside. Inside, Mary looked around the big dark hall, and felt very small and lost. They went straight upstairs. Mary was shown to a room where there was a warm fire and food on the table.

‘This is your room,’ said Mrs Medlock. ‘Go to bed when you’ve had some supper. And remember, you must stay in your room! Mr Craven doesn’t want you to wander all over the house!’

When Mary woke up the next morning, she saw a young servant girl cleaning the fireplace. The room seemed dark and rather strange, with pictures of dogs and horses and ladies on the walls. It was not a child’s room at all. From the window she could not see any trees or houses, only wild land, which looked like a kind of purple sea.

‘Who are you?’ she asked the servant coldly.

‘Martha, miss,’ answered the girl with a smile.

‘And what’s that outside?’ Mary continued.

‘That’s the moor,’ smiled Martha. ‘Do you like it?’

‘No,’ replied Mary immediately. ‘I hate it.’

‘That’s because you don’t know it. You will like it. I love it. It’s lovely in spring and summer when there are flowers. It always smells so sweet. The air’s so fresh, and the birds sing so beautifully. I never want to leave the moor.’

Mary was feeling very bad-tempered. ‘You’re a strange servant,’ she said. ‘In India we don’t have conversations with servants. We give orders, and they do what we tell, and that’s that.’

Martha did not seem to mind Mary’s crossness.

‘I know I talk too much!’ she laughed.

‘Are you going to be my servant?’ asked Mary.

‘Well, not really. I work for Mrs Medlock, I’m going to clean your room and bring you your food, but you won’t need a servant except for those things.’

‘But who’s going to dress me?’

Martha stopped cleaning, and stared at Mary.

‘Tha’ canna’ dress thysen?’ she asked, shocked.

‘What do you mean? I don’t understand your language!’

‘Oh, I forgot. We all speak the Yorkshire dialect here, but of course you don’t understand that. I meant to say, can’t you put on your own clothes?’

‘Of course not! My servant always dressed me.’

‘Well! I think you should learn to dress yourself. My mother always says people should be able to take care of themselves, even if they’re rich and important.’

Little Miss Mary was furious with Martha. ‘It’s different in India where I come from! You don’t know anything about India, or about servants, or about anything! You – you – ’ She could not explain what she meant. Suddenly she felt very confused and lonely. She threw herself down on the bed and started crying wildly.

‘Now, now, don’t cry like that,’ Martha said gently. ‘I’m very sorry. You’re right, I don’t know anything about anything. Please stop crying, miss.’