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Authors: Rosamunde Pilcher
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owned bricks and mortar, always lived in quarters. But I think it would be nice to have a permanent base. I thought, Devon. We have friends around here. Somewhere like Newton Abbot or Chagford, not too far from your grandparents.’
‘A little house of your own!’ It was a charming prospect. ‘Oh, do get one in the country. And then I could come and stay with you there.’
‘If you want.’
‘I'll always want.’
‘No. That's the funny thing. You mightn't. At your age, everything changes so quickly, and yet a year can seem like a lifetime. I remember. And you'll make new friends; want different things. And in your case, it's even more important, because you're going to have to make your own decisions and make up your mind about what you want to do. You won't have your mother around, and although you're bound to feel a bit bereft and lonely, in a way, it's a good thing. I'd have given the world to be shed of my parents when I was fourteen, fifteen. As it was,’ she added with some satisfaction, ‘I didn't do too badly, but that was because I took matters into my own hands.’
‘It's not very easy to take matters into your own hands when you're at boarding-school,’ Judith pointed out. She thought Aunt Biddy was making it all sound far too easy.
‘I think you must learn to precipitate situations, not be passive and simply let them happen to you. You must learn to be selective, about the friends you make and the books you read. An independence of spirit, I suppose that's what I'm talking about.’ She smiled. ‘George Bernard Shaw said that youth is wasted on the young. It's only when you get to be old that you begin to understand what he was talking about.’
‘You're not old.’
‘Maybe. But I'm certainly no longer a spring chicken.’
Judith popped a bit of sausage into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, ruminating over Aunt Biddy's advice. ‘What I really hate,’ she admitted at last, ‘is being treated as though I were the same age as Jess. I'm never
asked
about things, or
told
about things. If I hadn't heard you shouting at each other, I should never have known that you'd asked me to stay with you. She would never have told me.’
‘I know. It must be maddening. And I think you've got a genuine grievance. But you mustn't be too hard on your mother just now. At the moment, she's in a state of upheaval, and who can blame her if she does start twittering around like a wet hen?’ She laughed, and was rewarded by the beginnings of a smile. ‘Between you and me, I think she's rather in awe of Louise.’
‘I know she is.’
‘And you?’
‘I'm not frightened of her.’
‘Good girl.’
‘You know, Aunt Biddy, I've really loved staying with you. I won't ever forget it.’
Biddy was touched. ‘We've liked having you. Bob in particular. He said to say goodbye. He was sorry not to see you. Now…’ She pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘I can hear your mother and Jess on their way downstairs. Eat your breakfast and pretend we haven't been having a heart-to-heart. And remember, keep your spirits up. Now, I must go and put some clothes on…’
But before she reached the door, Molly and Jess had come into the room, Jess now dressed in a little smock and white socks, and with her silky curls smoothed by a hairbrush. Biddy paused to drop an airy kiss onto Molly's cheek. ‘Don't bother about a thing,’ she told her sister, which was the nearest she could get to an apology, and then she was gone, running up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
And so the quarrel was swept away, under the carpet, and the day progressed. Judith was so relieved that the air was clear between her mother and her aunt, and that no bad feeling hung about in the atmosphere, that it was only when they were actually at the station, standing on the windswept platform and waiting for the
Riviera
to arrive to take them back to Cornwall, that she had time to regret the absence of Uncle Bob.
It was
‘A little house of your own!’ It was a charming prospect. ‘Oh, do get one in the country. And then I could come and stay with you there.’
‘If you want.’
‘I'll always want.’
‘No. That's the funny thing. You mightn't. At your age, everything changes so quickly, and yet a year can seem like a lifetime. I remember. And you'll make new friends; want different things. And in your case, it's even more important, because you're going to have to make your own decisions and make up your mind about what you want to do. You won't have your mother around, and although you're bound to feel a bit bereft and lonely, in a way, it's a good thing. I'd have given the world to be shed of my parents when I was fourteen, fifteen. As it was,’ she added with some satisfaction, ‘I didn't do too badly, but that was because I took matters into my own hands.’
‘It's not very easy to take matters into your own hands when you're at boarding-school,’ Judith pointed out. She thought Aunt Biddy was making it all sound far too easy.
‘I think you must learn to precipitate situations, not be passive and simply let them happen to you. You must learn to be selective, about the friends you make and the books you read. An independence of spirit, I suppose that's what I'm talking about.’ She smiled. ‘George Bernard Shaw said that youth is wasted on the young. It's only when you get to be old that you begin to understand what he was talking about.’
‘You're not old.’
‘Maybe. But I'm certainly no longer a spring chicken.’
Judith popped a bit of sausage into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, ruminating over Aunt Biddy's advice. ‘What I really hate,’ she admitted at last, ‘is being treated as though I were the same age as Jess. I'm never
asked
about things, or
told
about things. If I hadn't heard you shouting at each other, I should never have known that you'd asked me to stay with you. She would never have told me.’
‘I know. It must be maddening. And I think you've got a genuine grievance. But you mustn't be too hard on your mother just now. At the moment, she's in a state of upheaval, and who can blame her if she does start twittering around like a wet hen?’ She laughed, and was rewarded by the beginnings of a smile. ‘Between you and me, I think she's rather in awe of Louise.’
‘I know she is.’
‘And you?’
‘I'm not frightened of her.’
‘Good girl.’
‘You know, Aunt Biddy, I've really loved staying with you. I won't ever forget it.’
Biddy was touched. ‘We've liked having you. Bob in particular. He said to say goodbye. He was sorry not to see you. Now…’ She pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘I can hear your mother and Jess on their way downstairs. Eat your breakfast and pretend we haven't been having a heart-to-heart. And remember, keep your spirits up. Now, I must go and put some clothes on…’
But before she reached the door, Molly and Jess had come into the room, Jess now dressed in a little smock and white socks, and with her silky curls smoothed by a hairbrush. Biddy paused to drop an airy kiss onto Molly's cheek. ‘Don't bother about a thing,’ she told her sister, which was the nearest she could get to an apology, and then she was gone, running up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
And so the quarrel was swept away, under the carpet, and the day progressed. Judith was so relieved that the air was clear between her mother and her aunt, and that no bad feeling hung about in the atmosphere, that it was only when they were actually at the station, standing on the windswept platform and waiting for the
Riviera
to arrive to take them back to Cornwall, that she had time to regret the absence of Uncle Bob.
It was
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