Streamline Graded ReadersLevel 2

The PictureJenny Pearson

Series Editors:Bernard Hartley and Peter Viney

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

OXFORD and OXFORD ENGLISH aretrade marks of Oxford University Press

ISBN 0 19 421905 4© Oxford University Press 1988

First published 1988Sixth impression 1994

Illustrated by: Lynne Willey

The picture was always a part of my life. When I was a littleboy, more than fifty years ago, I visited my grandmother onSundays. Her house was very near the sea. We lived in an oldfishing village in Cornwall, in the south-west of England, andthe sound of the sea was all round us.

While my grandmother and my mother were talking, Ialways walked round the little sitting room, and looked at allthe things there. The room was small and dark, with a squarewindow. The window looked out onto the garden. Mygrandmother wasn't rich, but the room was clean and warm.A fire burned in the fireplace in winter, and I loved the movingflames.

Above the fireplace there was a shelf. My grandmother puther special things there, a big clock, a silver mirror, a brightblue teapot and two brown and white china dogs. The dogslooked down at me kindly.

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But my favourite thing in the room was the picture. It wason the wall in a corner near the fireplace. It was very dark thereand I had to stand very near the picture, before I could see itclearly. It was like the room, small and square and brown, andI thought it was very old, like my grandmother. It was a pictureof an old lady. She was wearing an old-fashioned red dress.She had a round, kind face, and she was wearing a little whitehat on her head. In my imagination she was saying, 'Don'tworry, Peter, I'm your friend, and I understand you.' When Iwas very small, I was happy when I saw the old lady's face.

When I was older, about ten or eleven, I often visited mygrandmother. Our house was quiet. My father was dead, andmy mother had a little shop. She had to work there all day. Shehad to earn money for us both. I loved my grandmother andoften talked to her about her life when she was young. Oneday I asked her about the picture, 'Granny, who is the lady inthe picture? Was she in your family? She looks like you.'

Grandmother smiled. 'No, Peter,' she said, 'I don't knowher. The picture was your grandfather's and he got it from hisfather. Nobody knows anything about it. I don't think it's avery special picture, but I like it. I never feel alone, because theold lady is my friend. I talk to her sometimes—but don't tellanybody!'

Those times with my grandmother were happy ones for me.We talked all the time, and I ate some of her special chocolatecakes.

My motherland I didn't have much time together. Sheworked very hard. In the morning when I got up, I found mybreakfast on the table. My mother was already working in theshop. In the evening, when I came home from school, we hadour evening meal together. We talked a little about our day.After the meal I had to do my homework, and we both wentto bed early. I was an only child. I had friends at school, but I

didn't often ask them to come to my house because we livedoutside the village. Most of the time I was alone.

But I wasn't unhappy. I liked reading, and sometimes Ilistened to the big brown radio on the kitchen table. Then Icould escape in my imagination from my boring, quiet life andtravel round the world. I could climb mountains, visitAustralia, and live with the Eskimos in Canada. 'When I leaveschool,' I told my grandmother, 'I'm going to sail round theworld and make a lot of money. Then you and mother canhave a good holiday.' Grandmother always smiled at thesedreams.

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When I was seventeen, my grandmother died. Suddenlythere was nobody to talk to, nobody to listen to my excitingplans. I missed my best friend. For a long time my life wasempty, and my mother missed her badly, too.

We had to sell my grandmother's things. Two men cameand took everything away. Just before they came, my mothersaid to me, 'Peter, you can take one thing from Granny'shouse. You can choose anything.'

I went to the dark house, and looked round the little room.The dogs watched me from the shelf above the fireplace. Werethey saying, 'Take us'? I loved the clock, and the beautiful blueteapot. But I had to take the little picture of the old lady,because when I looked at her, I thought of my grandmother.I took the picture carefully from the wall. It was small, butheavy, and the frame was made of wood, with old bits of goldon it.

I carried the picture home and put it up on my wall. The oldlady smiled down at me, and I felt she was happy with me. Ididn't tell anybody but I felt that my grandmother wasthere and sometimes I talked to her about my problems andmy plans.

The years after that went quickly. I left school and got a jobin an office. It wasn't very interesting, but I was happy. Now Icould give my mother some money.

Then, suddenly, it was that terrible summer of 1939. Thewar began, and everywhere people had worried faces. Oneday I got a letter. I had to go to the Navy office the next day.That evening Mother and I sat quietly in the sitting room. Shesmiled at me. 'Be careful, Peter,' she said, 'and come backsoon.' I put my hand on hers for a moment. 'Don't worry,Mother,' I said. 'I'm going to send you postcards from a lot ofexciting places! But what about you? Don't work too hard!'

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Early the next morning she kissed me before she went to theshop. I didn't see her again for months.

I liked my life in the Navy. After a few months I got a job asan officer on a big ship. Sometimes it was dangerous work, butit was also very exciting. The most interesting thing for me wastravel. We travelled all over the world. We visited islands,cities and new countries, and the world got bigger and moreexciting all the time. I often wrote letters and postcards to mymother. When we stopped at a port, I usually found a letterfrom her. 'Life here is hard for everybody,' she wrote, 'and I'min the shop from 7 a.m. until 9 p.m. But we're lucky here. It'sworse for the people in the cities. I often think about you, mydear Peter. I hope you're all right.'On the ship I had a very good friend, Frank. He came fromMalta, and he often talked to me about his parents, hisbrothers, and all his cousins. He was a big, happy man. Heoften sang songs and played the guitar. Sometimes we satquietly and talked for hours about the war and our plans forthe future.

One day our ship arrived in Valletta, the port of Malta.Frank was very happy. I went with him and visited his cousins.His uncle had a cafe in Sliema, near Valletta. He was a big,friendly man. 'Welcome, Peter,' he said. 'You are one of ourfamily now, and you must see all of our beautiful island.'

We all sat in the sun outside the cafe with our cold drinksand I was very happy. I looked at the blue sea and the busypeople, and I forgot the war for a short time.

While we were sitting there, a young woman came towardsus. When she saw Frank, she ran and kissed him. 'Frank!' shesaid. 'It's wonderful to see you!'

Frank kissed her. 'Maria, this is my friend Peter,' he said. Helooked at me. 'Peter, this is my cousin, Maria.'

She was wearing a red dress. It was the colour of flames in

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the fire. She held out her hand to me. 'Peter,' she said, 'have awonderful time in Malta.' She smiled, and we all smiled,because she was so beautiful. She sat down with us, and askedFrank a lot of questions about the Navy and the war. Theytalked, and I watched Maria — her dark hair, her eyes, the wayshe moved her hands when she was talking. I was in love.

From that moment Maria was the most important person inmy life. We were together for ten days. We ate in littlerestaurants beside the sea. We listened to music in the clubsand bars. We walked over the island. We looked at the flowers,the horses and the people. Every day I learned more about her;and she had dreams for the future.

'I'm going to be a doctor, Peter,' she said, 'to help people.And I want to travel round the world.'

I kissed her. 'When this war finishes,' I said, 'we're going totravel together.'

We couldn't forget the war. After nine days I had to go backto my ship. On my last afternoon Frank drove us up to the hillsnear Luga, and Maria and I walked together for an hour. Itwas spring. The sun was shining, and the hills were bright withflowers. But we didn't see the colours round us. We sat quietlytogether.

Maria looked at me. Her face was angry. 'I hate war!' shesaid. 'Why do people fight, Peter? You don't want to fight, doyou?'

I held her hand. 'I don't want to — but I have to. But don'tworry. I'm going to come back after the war. And then ...'I couldn't say any more.

Maria said quietly, 'People change ... Are we going to bedifferent after the war?'

'Oh, Maria, I don't know,' I said, 'but I'm going to comeback. We can always be together.' Maria didn't answer. 1looked at her; her eyes were full of love. I thought about the

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eyes of the old lady in the picture.We didn't say anything after that. We just sat together and

watched the sky and the sea. The next day I went back to myship.

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For many months our ship was in the centre of the war. Oneterrible day Frank died, and a lot of other people on the ship.I was lucky — I didn't die, but I was in hospital for six months.

In Malta life was difficult, too. A lot of people died there. Ididn't hear from Maria. Perhaps she .. . but I couldn't thinkabout that. I wanted to write to her, but in hospital I couldn't.Then I was afraid.

The war finished, and I left the Navy. I lived with my motherin Cornwall, but I was not happy. One day Mother said,'Peter, you must go back to Malta. You're thinking aboutMaria all the time, I know.'

That night I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about Malta -about Maria. The next morning I knew. Mother was right.Only Maria was important in my life, and I had to find heragain. I bought a boat ticket to Malta, and in a week I was inValletta. When I arrived, it was very late. I couldn't visit her. Istayed in a hotel near the sea, and the next day I got a bus toher father's cafe in Shema.

It was winter in Malta now. There were no flowers on thehills, the sea was grey, and there was a cold wind. The cafe wasthere, but it was empty. There was no glass in the windows.There were no doors. 'What happened here during the war ?' Ithought. I was cold in my thin coat. Where was she? Howcould I find her? I went back to Valletta, and I walked slowlythrough the streets of the town.

I stopped outside a big hotel in the town centre There wasa party, with music and dancing. People were singing andlaughing. I was cold, and I went into the hotel for a cup ofcoffee. I was sitting in the hotel restaurant when I heard ashout. The people from the party were running into the street,and a lot of cars were stopping noisily outside the hotel. Theyhad lots of flowers on them.

I stood up and looked out of the window, and I saw - my

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beautiful Maria ... with a young man. She was wearing a longdress, and she had some flowers in her hand. The young manwas wearing an expensive suit, and he had a flower, too. Iknew immediately . . . this big party was for Maria, and shewas married to the young man.

I sat in the restaurant until it was quiet again. All the peoplewent away. Then I walked slowly back to the port. A boat wasgoing to England the next day. I sat in a cafe by the sea; Icouldn't read, or write, or think about anything. 'I've lostMaria!' I thought. 'Why am I still alive?'

Six weeks later I moved out of my mother's house into alittle room. It was small and cheap, and I took only a few ofmy things with me - a chair, my radio, and my grandmother'spicture. I often sat in the evenings and talked to the little oldlady with the quiet face and the red dress. She was my friend,and she knew my secrets. After some time I got a boring job ina boring office. I had a little money for food, and some moneyfor my room. I often visited my mother and gave her somemoney. She was old now, and tired, but she had to work in theshop because she needed the money.

One day a man in my office stopped next to my desk. 'Doyou want to buy a lottery ticket?' he asked. 'A lot of peopleneed new houses after the war. The money from the lottery isgoing to help them.' He smiled. 'Maybe this is the luckynumber and you can win a lot of money.'

I bought a ticket, and after that he was very friendly. Ivisited him and his family at his house. He talked a lot aboutpictures. His brother had an important shop in London and heknew a lot about famous painters. One day he came to myroom to have a cup of coffee. He looked at my little room, andimmediately he saw my old lady. He went very close to her,and looked at her carefully for a long time. Then he said,'Where did that picture come from? I think it's somethingspecial.'

The next day he brought his brother. They took the pictureaway and after a lot of tests the brother came back. He wasvery excited. 'Your picture is by Rembrandt!' he told me. 'Youcan sell it and get thousands of pounds!'

For two days I sat in my room and looked at the old lady.She smiled quietly at me, and I thought she was saying, 'Youmust do the best thing. I am your friend.'

I didn't want to sell her. I couldn't. She was the best thing inmy life. She was a part of my life from the beginning, and I

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needed her more than I needed the money. But then I thought,'With the money I can help my mother. I can buy her a house,she can leave the shop, and she can have a holiday.'

The next day I knew the answer. I had to sell the picture. 'Ican ask my friend's brother,' I thought. 'He can sell the picturefor me.' I went to the office, and when I saw my friend, I wentover to him. But before I could speak, my friend laughed andtook my hand.

'Well, here's the lucky man!' he said, and the other people inthe office all laughed and clapped their hands. 'You've wonthe lottery,' he said, 'and a cheque for £20,000 is coming inthe post!'

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That evening when I went back to my room, the old ladylooked happier. And behind the front door was a letter fromMalta. It said:

The next day I flew to Malta.

Exercises

1 Read through the story quickly and find this information.1 The colour of the old lady's dress in the picture.2 The place where Peter's mother worked.3 Peter's age when his grandmother died.4 The year when the war began.5 The name of Peter's friend in the Navy.6 The country Peter's friend came from.7 The colour of Maria's dress.8 The number of days Peter and Maria were together.9 The number of months Peter was in hospital.

10 The amount of money Peter won in the lottery.

2 Are these sentences true ( V) or false (X)?1 Peter's grandmother lived in the north-east of England.2 The picture was of Peter's grandmother.3 Peter's grandmother sometimes talked to the old lady in the

picture.4 Peter went into the Navy in 1939.5 Peter never wrote to his mother during the war.6 Maria wanted to stay in Malta all her life.7 Maria's cousin died in the war.8 Peter's picture was by a very famous painter.9 Peter sold the picture for £20,000.

10 Maria's father saw Peter in Malta when Peter went there afterthe war.

3 Complete the spaces in these sentences.1 The picture was Peter's ..... thing in his grandmother's room.2 The old lady in the picture was wearing an ..... red dress.3 Peter was an ..... child.4 Peter's mother was very busy, and most of the time Peter was

5 The ..... of the picture was made of wood.6 Frank and Peter visited Frank's..... in Malta.7 Maria said, 'Have a ..... time in Malta.

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8 Maria's face was ..... when she talked to Peter about the war.9 Peter got a ..... job in a ..... office.

10 In her letter Maria said, 'I..... you! When can you come?'

4 Comprehension questions1 Where was the picture in Peter's grandmother's room?2 What was the little old lady in the picture wearing?3 Why didn't Peter's grandmother feel alone?4 Why did Peter like the radio?5 Why did Peter want the picture from his grandmother's house?6 What did Peter talk about to the old lady in the picture?7 What was Peter's job in the war?8 Where did he travel with the ship ?9 Did Frank like music?

10 What was Maria wearing when Peter first saw her?11 Where did Peter first see Maria?12 What did Peter and Maria do together in Malta?13 When Frank died, what happened to Peter?14 When Peter saw the party in the hotel, he was sure about

something. What was he sure about?15 What did Peter do after the war?16 Why was the brother of the man from the office excited about

Peter's picture?17 Why didn't Peter sell the picture ?18 Who was the young man with Maria at the party in Valletta ?19 How did Maria know Peter was alive after the war?20 What did Peter do the morning after he won the lottery?

5 Discussion questions1 Describe the picture.2 Do you think Peter had a good life when he was young? Why?3 Why do you think the picture was important to him?4 Why did he think Maria was married when he saw her at the

party?5 What do you think happened when Peter got to Malta at the

end of the story?

Glossary

beginning: the startbelieve: think that something is true (not a lie)bright: opposite of 'dark'; bright colours are easy to seeboring: not interestingcake: something sweet to eat; a cooked mixture of flour, eggs,

butter, etccheque: a piece of paper from a bank with an amount of money and

somebody's name written on itchina: pottery; cups and plates are made of chinaclap: hit the hands together to make a noisecousin: a child of your mother's or father's brother or sisterearn: get money by workingexcited: a (good) strong feeling; you feel excited when something

exciting happens to youfireplace: the place in a room where a fire can burnflame: red or yellow burning gas; when a fire burns, you see flamesframe: the piece of wood or metal round a picturehomework: school work that you have to do at homeimagination: making pictures in your head of things and people that

you cannot seelottery: a kind of competition; people buy numbered tickets and

some of them win prizes or moneymirror: a piece of glass; you can see yourself in a mirrorNavy: all the fighting ships of a country and the people that work on

themnoisily: with a lot of noise; not quietlyold-fashioned: not modern; of a kind that was usual a long time agoonly child: a child with no brothers or sisterspainter: a person who makes pictures with colours; Rembrandt

was a famous painter from Hollandparents: mother and fatherpart: a piece; anything that belongs to something biggerport: a city or town by the sea where ships can stopshelf: a piece of wood or metal on a wall for books and other thingsunhappy: opposite of 'happy'; sad

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