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

among trees after that, where her hair caught painfully on twigs.
She crouched over and went on running, terrified that great stone
feet were coming tramping after her, to tell her she was forbidden
to be here and certainly not with her hair all loose and wearing a
loud red cardigan. Her panic took her through snow next and then
through rain, and after that along a windy seashore where her
trainers filled with sand and slowed her almost to a walk. But she
did not stop trying to run until she came into a green place full of
sunshine. People were playing music there.
The music made Hayley feel safe—very safe, because it was one
of the tunes Fiddle used to play beside the pub, on the shady side of
the street. Hayley sat down on the grass, half hidden by a tree, to
empty the sand out of her shoes and get her breath back, and
stared out into the glade with great interest. There was a bit of
feast going on out there. There was a table made of logs, with
wineglasses and bread and fruit on it and a large leather pitcher to
hold the wine. Three very pretty ladies in floaty dresses were
sitting along a garden seat beyond the table, entertaining an old
man and two more ladies who had their backs to Hayley. One
musical lady played the flute, the one in the middle had a sort of
banjo, and the third one kept the beat with a sort of tinkly rattle.
When they finished the tune, the three people at the table clapped
and raised their wineglasses. The musical ladies laughed. The one
playing the flute said, “I think we have a visitor, Papa.” And she
pointed at Hayley with her flute.
The old man whirled round in his seat. “Who?” he said.
To Hayley’s astonishment, he was Grandad—Grandad wearing a
loose grey-blue robe, but Grandad all the same, and looking much
more cheerful than he usually did at home on the edge of London.
He stared at Hayley and burst out laughing.
“Well, I’ll be— Hayley !” he said. “I hardly knew you in those
clothes! Come over here and be introduced to your aunts.” And,
again most unlike his usual self, he held out both arms to her.
Hayley slowly stood up. “Is Grandma here?” she asked cagily.
Grandad shook his head. “No, no, she never comes here. It’s
much too free and easy for her—and much too full of strange
things.”
He continued to hold out his arms to her, so Hayley went over to
him and let herself be folded into a hearty hug.
“Merope’s daughter,” Grandad explained to the ladies across her
head.
“Oh, I remember!” said the lady Hayley could see out of her left
eye. She wore a gown the blue of hyacinths and she had two deep
dimples when she smiled. “Merope got into trouble for marrying a
mortal, didn’t she?”
“And so did the mortal, poor fellow,” Grandad said. He swung
Hayley round into the crook of his left arm. “This one in blue,” he
told her, “is your aunt Arethusa, and the one in green is your aunt
Hespere. That one with the flute is Aigley, and the one with the
sistrum is Hesperethusa. Erytheia is our string player. If you want