…THE ISLAND OF PLUDFELL AND THE PEGWIN.
Arlo Twittle part 2.
Not surprisingly, when his father was home, he would flop in the chair in front of the TV and watch football, or cricket, or any sport that took his fancy. Arlo spent that time dreaming of days in the park, playing those games with his father.
His mother, who was a rather pristine and neat woman, worked part-time at the local beauty parlour, and only spent time with him when she wanted to try out the latest make-up and beauty treatments. Poor Arlo was her favourite guinea pig, and although he felt pleased she noticed him for a change, he often wondered if her painting him like a clown was the right way to gain his mother’s attention. Then the rest of the time, she would invite friends to visit or plan parties he never found himself invited to.
They did spend time together as a family on the odd occasion, but only when his father took a break from work and they would eat tea at the kitchen table. Arlo, however, would sit in silence; while his parents discussed their day without even realising he was there.
He often wondered why he was born at all. They never went on holiday. They never went to the cinema, and they never remembered his birthday.
So at every opportunity—which included every afternoon and school holiday—Arlo would be handed over to Mrs. Butcher, the old lady who lived next door. She, on the other hand, never forgot his birthday.
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