and—”
“I’ve got some Band-Aids in the car,” she interrupted. “Thanks,” she added grudgingly, and set off down the path. He called out something and she turned. “What?”
“I said, come and find me another timeand I’ll show you the folly. You shouldn’t go up it on your own.”
“What…?” she said again, though she’d heard him that time, she was just surprised at the offer.
“I said it’s not safe. The house at the bottom of the hill. That’s where you’ll find me.”
“All right,” she said. “Maybe.”
The trudge down the slope jolted her weary body and she reached the car feeling terribly weak. She collapsedin the driver’s seat for a few moments, then remembered there was a chocolate bar in the glove compartment. She dug it out from among the CD boxes and old pens, glad to find her small first-aid kit there, too. When she’d eaten the chocolate she peeled off her wrecked tights and cleaned up the wound. It didn’t look very serious, though it still hurt.
Feeling better, she drove up the hill, wonderingabout the house he mentioned. She must have passed it in the car earlier, further back toward Starbrough Hall. Noticing the junction with the lane where she’d parted from him, and wishing she’d found it rather than the overgrown footpath, she continued toward Felbarton.
CHAPTER 6
Jude closed the rickety garden gate of Blacksmith’s Cottage and walked up the path, then stopped, amused by the sight of a small girl periodically rising and falling above the level of the back-garden wall, to the rhythmic accompaniment of thuds and squeaks. Summer’s eyes were closed as she bounced on her trampoline and her lips moved as though she were lost in some chanting song. Howethereal she seemed, Jude thought tenderly. In her pink capri pants and embroidered crop top, with her fine hair flying about her face, her niece was as light and supple as the swifts that dipped and soared in the evening air.
As though sensing she was watched, Summer’s eyes flicked open. “Auntie Jude,” she shouted. She launched herself off the trampoline and disappeared from sight, but Judecould hear her calling, “Mummy, Mummy, Auntie Jude’s here,” in the depths of the cottage.
As Jude waited for the front door to open, she admired the mass of white roses growing over the porch and the window boxes of geraniums and trailing lobelia. Her sister had a natural ability with these things. She remembered the solitary, straggling spider plant on her own kitchen windowsill in Greenwich.
“Well, aren’t you coming in then?” Claire called from the doorway. Slim, blonde and elfin pretty, Claire had a brusque way of speaking that had long been part of her armor against the world. “What the hell have you done to yourself?” she cried.
Jude looked down at her crumpled jacket and skirt. Blood was seeping out from under the plaster on her shin. “It’s a long story,” she said.
Summer duckedbeneath her mother’s arm, danced out and grabbed Jude’s hand, drawing her inside. The three of them stumbled together into the tiny living room. “Will you come upstairs, Auntie Jude?” commanded Summer. “I want to show you my doll’s house. I’ve just made some pictures to go on the walls.”
“Let your poor aunt rest a moment,” Claire said, glancing again curiously at Jude’s cut. “I’ll put the kettleon, shall I? Have a shower and change, if you want.”
“I don’t mind making the tea,” Jude said tentatively, but what she meant as a genuine offer of help was, as usual, interpreted wrongly.
“I can manage, thank you,” Claire said firmly. “It’s you who’s in the wars today.”
Jude watched her push herself upright and limp into the kitchen. Although all the operations on her leg had made a difference,they had never entirely solved the original problem. After she was sixteen, Claire refused to endure any more treatment.
“Come on, Auntie Jude.” Summer ran ahead upstairs.
Claire called
“I’ve got some Band-Aids in the car,” she interrupted. “Thanks,” she added grudgingly, and set off down the path. He called out something and she turned. “What?”
“I said, come and find me another timeand I’ll show you the folly. You shouldn’t go up it on your own.”
“What…?” she said again, though she’d heard him that time, she was just surprised at the offer.
“I said it’s not safe. The house at the bottom of the hill. That’s where you’ll find me.”
“All right,” she said. “Maybe.”
The trudge down the slope jolted her weary body and she reached the car feeling terribly weak. She collapsedin the driver’s seat for a few moments, then remembered there was a chocolate bar in the glove compartment. She dug it out from among the CD boxes and old pens, glad to find her small first-aid kit there, too. When she’d eaten the chocolate she peeled off her wrecked tights and cleaned up the wound. It didn’t look very serious, though it still hurt.
Feeling better, she drove up the hill, wonderingabout the house he mentioned. She must have passed it in the car earlier, further back toward Starbrough Hall. Noticing the junction with the lane where she’d parted from him, and wishing she’d found it rather than the overgrown footpath, she continued toward Felbarton.
CHAPTER 6
Jude closed the rickety garden gate of Blacksmith’s Cottage and walked up the path, then stopped, amused by the sight of a small girl periodically rising and falling above the level of the back-garden wall, to the rhythmic accompaniment of thuds and squeaks. Summer’s eyes were closed as she bounced on her trampoline and her lips moved as though she were lost in some chanting song. Howethereal she seemed, Jude thought tenderly. In her pink capri pants and embroidered crop top, with her fine hair flying about her face, her niece was as light and supple as the swifts that dipped and soared in the evening air.
As though sensing she was watched, Summer’s eyes flicked open. “Auntie Jude,” she shouted. She launched herself off the trampoline and disappeared from sight, but Judecould hear her calling, “Mummy, Mummy, Auntie Jude’s here,” in the depths of the cottage.
As Jude waited for the front door to open, she admired the mass of white roses growing over the porch and the window boxes of geraniums and trailing lobelia. Her sister had a natural ability with these things. She remembered the solitary, straggling spider plant on her own kitchen windowsill in Greenwich.
“Well, aren’t you coming in then?” Claire called from the doorway. Slim, blonde and elfin pretty, Claire had a brusque way of speaking that had long been part of her armor against the world. “What the hell have you done to yourself?” she cried.
Jude looked down at her crumpled jacket and skirt. Blood was seeping out from under the plaster on her shin. “It’s a long story,” she said.
Summer duckedbeneath her mother’s arm, danced out and grabbed Jude’s hand, drawing her inside. The three of them stumbled together into the tiny living room. “Will you come upstairs, Auntie Jude?” commanded Summer. “I want to show you my doll’s house. I’ve just made some pictures to go on the walls.”
“Let your poor aunt rest a moment,” Claire said, glancing again curiously at Jude’s cut. “I’ll put the kettleon, shall I? Have a shower and change, if you want.”
“I don’t mind making the tea,” Jude said tentatively, but what she meant as a genuine offer of help was, as usual, interpreted wrongly.
“I can manage, thank you,” Claire said firmly. “It’s you who’s in the wars today.”
Jude watched her push herself upright and limp into the kitchen. Although all the operations on her leg had made a difference,they had never entirely solved the original problem. After she was sixteen, Claire refused to endure any more treatment.
“Come on, Auntie Jude.” Summer ran ahead upstairs.
Claire called
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