The World of Nicholas Mallet HTML version
THE WORLD OF NICHOLAS MALLET. Copyright 2002
When being driven by my sister, with my mother who loved an afternoon
drive, near the New Forest, we came across a large mansion with a front
pediment, down a long driveway, I thought the colour of the mansion garish.
But it was set in a lovely dell and surrounded by old trees. I also imagined a
small river behind the mansion. We were there just briefly only passing
slowly. When my sister delivered us safely home I got fingers to laptop. As I
was on holiday from Australia I must have got a little home sick! Well yes I
could had thought of another name other than Nicholas but I didn’t! By the
way I have lovely siblings, so this story is based on imagination only! Or did
someone whisper it in my ear, perhaps Alex!
Chapter One. Looking for a home.
Beneath the bower of two tulip trees, two figures lay peacefully side-by-side,
their fingers entwined, both listening to the sound of the leaves brushing
against one another in the summer breeze. A fourth honeymoon to celebrate,
some real time together.
After a while they began their exertions once again. Eight months and
fourteen days later a son was born, the fourth boy, fifth in line after the
daughter who was three years older. They named him Nicholas, but were
still bitterly disappointed. They had wanted another girl after all to take care
of the hand me downs and to even up the children.
Shirley and Bill forked out the old baby clothes once again; the pram stroller
was decrepit, but would at a pinch last for one more time. So the old
clothes and fifth hand stroller would follow young Nick throughout his
childhood, always the smallest and the easiest to cloth. Often dressed in an
assortment of his sibling’s old clothes. Nick would be easy to find with his
cream coloured bubbly hair and high-pitched voice. Made louder as the
elders constantly teased him unmercifully. After all, who would wear an old
dress over a patched pair of shorts? Gary was the worst, just four years older,
taller and slimmer and a bully to boot.
Tamara would side with Gary, whenever Nick complained, she took the side
of the elder who ever that might be, and thus Nick was looked upon as an
The Estate Agent drove quickly through the narrow lanes with barely a
glance at the autumn colours.
“Soon be there Mr. Mallet” he eyed his client’s golden head. The head