Opal Plumstead Quotes

“When we were entirely alone in this lush green world, Morgan pulled me gently to him, tipped up my chin and kissed me on the lips. He kissed me, he kissed me, he kissed me . . .”
― Jacqueline Wilson, Opal Plumstead

“Of course. I’ll never lie still like my father under his hideous obelisk. I’ll roam free, flying above you like these angels, and I’ll be with you day and night,’ Morgan whispered.”
― Jacqueline Wilson, Opal Plumstead

“because I was so shy about taking my clothes off.”
― Jacqueline Wilson, Opal Plumstead

“What is he cooking?’ I whispered. ‘Take a peep,’ said Mr Beeston. I peered in cautiously and saw that he was stirring almonds, gently browning them. ‘Ready now! Sharp with the syrup, young Davey,’ called the burly man. ‘Young’ Davey was a thin, wizened man in his fifties, but his sinewy arms were strong enough to lift a two-handled copper pan full of sugar syrup. He propped the pan on an iron frame by the cradle, taking over the rocking, while the burly man dipped a big ladle into the thick syrup and then flung it over the hot almonds. I watched carefully as a glaze formed around each one. ‘Oh my goodness. So . . . are these sugared almonds?’ I said. ‘Well done, Opal Plumstead. Ten out of ten for you. No, nine out of ten, for they’re not sugared almonds just yet. The first coating has to dry – then what do you think will happen?’ ‘He’ll pour another ladleful in?’ I said. Mr Beeston nodded. ‘The whole process is repeated for an hour or more until each almond has several coats. Next time you bite into one, missy, see how they crackle into little layers, thin as paper. Try counting how many layers each one has. Then you’ll know how many ladlefuls have gone into the whole process. Magical, isn’t it?”
― Jacqueline Wilson, Opal Plumstead

“My neck and shoulders and back ached fiercely after a day spent bending over boxes of starch. I tried singing softly to keep my spirits up, but the only songs I knew by heart were the hymns we sang at school. After one verse of ‘He Who Would Valiant Be’ I was in tears. I thought of Olivia and Mr Andrews. I was in such a state I almost felt nostalgic for hawk-nosed Mounty.”
― Jacqueline Wilson, Opal Plumstead

“I went round the side of the house, and stared at the garden in horror. The ivy had almost taken over. There were still flowers in the borders, but weeds rioted everywhere, choking all the blooms. The stream still trickled in spite of vast tangles of waterweed. I followed it to the end of the garden. The little Japanese house was lurid green with moss. I sat on the cold seat and shut my eyes tight.”
― Jacqueline Wilson, Opal Plumstead