Read Online A Summer Promise by Katie Flynn - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katie Flynn
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of amusement, hastily muffled. ‘I’m so sorry for laughing, Miss Spender,’ she said. ‘I have seen bicycles with crossbars, but Tom’s bike doesn’t have one. I must ask him why not when I see him next.’
Miss Spender gave a sigh of relief. ‘I thought Mr Thwaite wouldn’t countenance such behaviour,’ she said. ‘So you’re going into the village, are you? Have you any of your allowance left?’
Alice plunged a hand into her pinafore pocket and withdrew a beautiful little drawstring purse embroidered with violets. It was Miss Spender’s most recent Christmas gift and Alice loved it. She held out her palm and tipped the purse so that the money clinked into her hand. ‘I’ve two and tenpence,’ she said after a quick count. ‘I shan’t need more. Unless . . . do any of your letters need stamps, Miss Spender?’
‘No, they’re all ready to post,’ the governess assured her.
As Alice crossed the courtyard half an hour later she saw Mr Browning energetically polishing the already gleaming car. He looked up and smiled at her as she approached.
‘Morning, young lady! Are you looking for Tom?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘He’s gone down to the beck to meet you.’ He looked at the batch of letters Alice was clutching. ‘Going into the village? If so, you’ll want the bike, and he’s left it in its stall.’
‘Good morning, Mr Browning. I’m not sure about the bike, but did Tom take his fishing rod?’
The chauffeur shook his head. ‘Not as I noticed, but if I were under the car which I was earlier I dare say a brigade of guards could have marched past without me seeing them.’ He chuckled. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Not really,’ Alice admitted. She hesitated, looking enquiringly at the chauffeur. ‘I do want to go into the village to post these letters for Miss Spender. Do you think Tom would mind if I took his bicycle down to the beck to meet him?’
The chauffeur had been bending to examine what might have been a scratch on the passenger door, but now he straightened and pushed a hand up through his hair. Alice reflected that this was the first time she had seen Tom’s father without his peaked chauffeur’s cap and she now saw that his hair was similar to Tom’s in colour, though a very much darker shade. ‘I said you can take the bike, but don’t you go trying to ride it. I know Tom’s teaching you, but he says you’ve a way to go yet, and the bicycle’s rather special to us both. It was Tom’s mum’s many years ago, and we’d hate it to be damaged.’
‘I’ll be ever so careful, honestly I will, and I wouldn’t dream of riding it,’ Alice said. ‘Thanks very much, Mr Browning . . . oh, is there anything you want from the village?’
Mr Browning shook his head and tapped the car’s long and gleaming bonnet. ‘No thanks, duck. I’ll be busy here for a while yet, but later on I’ll likely go down myself and pick up a few things.’
‘Righty-ho,’ said Alice, wheeling the bicycle out of the stable and heading across the yard. ‘I’ll tell Tom you said it would be all right about the bicycle.’
‘Well well well, look who’s here! Alice, my love, you’re as welcome as the flowers in May.’ Tom grinned. ‘Have you two met? If not, may I perform the introductions? Miss Thwaite, this is Miss Hebditch. Miss Hebditch, meet Miss Thwaite. Oh, and I’m Tom Browning, son of the best chauffeur in the dales!’
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ Maddy said stiffly. ‘You know perfectly well that Alice and I are best friends, only we’ve not met for a while because I’ve been looking after my gran.’
‘Sorry, my mistake. You two were glaring at each other like a couple of dogs disputing over a bone so I leapt to the conclusion . . .’
‘Well don’t,’ Maddy said crossly. She turned awkwardly to Alice, not quite sure what to say. ‘We ought to put the book back before we do anything else,’ she managed. ‘I’ve told Tom all about it. But I didn’t tell him
Miss Spender gave a sigh of relief. ‘I thought Mr Thwaite wouldn’t countenance such behaviour,’ she said. ‘So you’re going into the village, are you? Have you any of your allowance left?’
Alice plunged a hand into her pinafore pocket and withdrew a beautiful little drawstring purse embroidered with violets. It was Miss Spender’s most recent Christmas gift and Alice loved it. She held out her palm and tipped the purse so that the money clinked into her hand. ‘I’ve two and tenpence,’ she said after a quick count. ‘I shan’t need more. Unless . . . do any of your letters need stamps, Miss Spender?’
‘No, they’re all ready to post,’ the governess assured her.
As Alice crossed the courtyard half an hour later she saw Mr Browning energetically polishing the already gleaming car. He looked up and smiled at her as she approached.
‘Morning, young lady! Are you looking for Tom?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘He’s gone down to the beck to meet you.’ He looked at the batch of letters Alice was clutching. ‘Going into the village? If so, you’ll want the bike, and he’s left it in its stall.’
‘Good morning, Mr Browning. I’m not sure about the bike, but did Tom take his fishing rod?’
The chauffeur shook his head. ‘Not as I noticed, but if I were under the car which I was earlier I dare say a brigade of guards could have marched past without me seeing them.’ He chuckled. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Not really,’ Alice admitted. She hesitated, looking enquiringly at the chauffeur. ‘I do want to go into the village to post these letters for Miss Spender. Do you think Tom would mind if I took his bicycle down to the beck to meet him?’
The chauffeur had been bending to examine what might have been a scratch on the passenger door, but now he straightened and pushed a hand up through his hair. Alice reflected that this was the first time she had seen Tom’s father without his peaked chauffeur’s cap and she now saw that his hair was similar to Tom’s in colour, though a very much darker shade. ‘I said you can take the bike, but don’t you go trying to ride it. I know Tom’s teaching you, but he says you’ve a way to go yet, and the bicycle’s rather special to us both. It was Tom’s mum’s many years ago, and we’d hate it to be damaged.’
‘I’ll be ever so careful, honestly I will, and I wouldn’t dream of riding it,’ Alice said. ‘Thanks very much, Mr Browning . . . oh, is there anything you want from the village?’
Mr Browning shook his head and tapped the car’s long and gleaming bonnet. ‘No thanks, duck. I’ll be busy here for a while yet, but later on I’ll likely go down myself and pick up a few things.’
‘Righty-ho,’ said Alice, wheeling the bicycle out of the stable and heading across the yard. ‘I’ll tell Tom you said it would be all right about the bicycle.’
‘Well well well, look who’s here! Alice, my love, you’re as welcome as the flowers in May.’ Tom grinned. ‘Have you two met? If not, may I perform the introductions? Miss Thwaite, this is Miss Hebditch. Miss Hebditch, meet Miss Thwaite. Oh, and I’m Tom Browning, son of the best chauffeur in the dales!’
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ Maddy said stiffly. ‘You know perfectly well that Alice and I are best friends, only we’ve not met for a while because I’ve been looking after my gran.’
‘Sorry, my mistake. You two were glaring at each other like a couple of dogs disputing over a bone so I leapt to the conclusion . . .’
‘Well don’t,’ Maddy said crossly. She turned awkwardly to Alice, not quite sure what to say. ‘We ought to put the book back before we do anything else,’ she managed. ‘I’ve told Tom all about it. But I didn’t tell him
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