"Diana Wynne Jones - The Game" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Diana Wynne)

water she had scrubbed her muddy knees in. Then she went
demurely down to the parlour, where Grandma was pouring tea
and Grandad and Uncle Jolyon were drinking it, all smiles, as if
neither of them had just been quarrelling in the hall.
Nobody took much notice of Hayley. She sat on an embroidered
chair nibbling at a rock cake—which made her feel like a rather
small squirrel—and listened to the three adults talk about world
affairs, and Science, and the Stock Market, and some prehistoric
carvings someone had found in a cave near Nottingham. If Uncle
Jolyon had specially wanted to see Hayley, he showed few signs of
it. He only looked at her once. Hayley was struck then by how
dishonest the crinkles round his eyes made him look. She thought it
must be because she had just seen Flute. Flute’s green eyes looked
at you direct and straight, without any disguising of his feelings.
Uncle Jolyon’s eyes calculated and concealed things. Hayley found
she distrusted him very much.
When the tea was drunk, Uncle Jolyon leaned over, grunting a
little, and pinched Hayley’s chin. “You be a good girl now,” he said
to her, “and do what your grandparents say.”
The way he smiled, full of false kindness and hidden meanings,
truly grated on Hayley. And the pinch hurt. “Why are you so
dishonest?” she said.
Grandma went stiff as a post. Grandad seemed to curl up a little,
as if he expected someone to hit him. Uncle Jolyon, however, leant
his head back and laughed heartily.
“Because I have to be,” he said. “Nobody expects a businessman
to be honest , child.” And he shouted with laughter again.
Uncle Jolyon went away after that—with Grandad seeing him
into his waiting taxi in the friendliest possible way— and Hayley
was left to face Grandma’s anger.
“How dare you be so rude to poor Uncle Jolyon!” she said. “Go up
to your room and stay there! I don’t want to set eyes on you until
you’ve remembered how to behave properly.”
Hayley was quite glad to go. She wanted to be alone to digest all
the things she had seen that afternoon. But she could not resist
turning round halfway upstairs. “Uncle Jolyon isn’t poor,” she said.
“And he orders Grandad around.”
“Go!” Grandma commanded, pointing a strong finger upstairs.
Hayley went. She went into her room and sat there for a long
time, staring at the photo of her parents on the mantelpiece. So
happy. That was what Hayley had expected the mythosphere to be
like, full of happiness, but it seemed to be full of tragic things
instead.
After a while, though, it occurred to her that in a way it was full
of happiness. The hunter in the leopard skin had been happy, until
he saw the ladies and turned all mean. The ladies who turned into
swans had been happy as they ran down to the water. And that boy
with the dogs had been happiest of all until he was stupid enough to
annoy a goddess.
“It’s silly to let the bad things come out on top!” Hayley said