Read Online Journey to Munich by Jacqueline Winspear - Free Book Online Page A

Elaine would also have found a meeting difficult in the extreme. But was such fear enough to push the younger woman so far away?
    The ticket collector interrupted Maisie’s thoughts.
    â€œChange at Tonbridge, madam.”
    Maisie thanked him and settled back into her seat. Change at Tonbridge. She smiled to herself, though it was an expression of irony, not one of amusement. So many times in the past, Tonbridge had seemed to mark the place where she had to change who she was, from the London woman to the girl coming home to her father and, earlier,from the nurse who had seen so much to someone who told those who loved her, “Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m all right.” Now she would be a daughter again—ready to assure her father and stepmother that she was doing very well indeed, was thinking of the future again. She would tell them about the flats she’d seen, and that she fully intended to return to Chelstone at every week’s end, and for long periods over the summer.
    O n Saturday afternoon Maisie and her father pulled themselves away from a warm log fire to walk a favorite route through the village, then out along a country lane and across winter-sodden fields, close to the edge where the mud was shallow. On the other side of a stretch of land in the midst of being tilled, a farmer was encouraging his horses to pull harder against the traces, while the plowboy led the team around a corner to carve another row. They stopped to watch for a while, each with their own thoughts. Then father and daughter strolled on in silence for a few moments.
    Finally Maisie spoke. “Dad, I want to explain how sorry I am that I stayed away so long, and why I didn’t come home with you after being in hospital in Toronto.” Unsure of her words, she looked up again at the horses and the plow and the farmer pressing his body forward, as if to give more power to the task. “I know it’s a while ago now, but I still can’t really explain what happened to me after James died. I was paralyzed, in a way—there was nowhere I could get comfortable, and I couldn’t face coming home. And then I went to Spain, and it seemed the best thing to do—to be of help to people was a way to banish the dreadful memories, and—”
    Frankie stopped walking and laid a hand on her arm. “You’ve no need to start saying sorry to me. You were grieving, Maisie, and there’sno prescription for it, nor any right way to go about it. After your mother passed away, I was lost—and I think I forgot that you’d lost something too. And what did I do? I sent you off into service, because I didn’t know what to do with myself or you. I’ll tell you now, knowing you won’t hold it against me, but it was more to do with me being at sea with myself than with thinking it would be good for you, though it’s all turned out right for the best, hasn’t it? I’m not going to rake over old pasture, but I’ve come to an age where I’ve seen people lose the people they love, and I’ve been through it myself. There’s no proper way to go about what comes afterward. You just put one foot in front of the other and you get on with it the best you can. Trouble is, your best ain’t always the best for those who want a say in the matter. But you’ve not done poorly by anyone, Maisie. You had to look after yourself, and now you’re home. That’s what matters. We’re all coming through it in our way. Brenda and I set a lot of stock by James, and of course his mother and father loved him, but we all have our own way of going about these things, and no one can criticize anyone else for how they do it.”
    â€œBut Brenda said—”
    â€œI was all right, Maisie. Just creaking a bit more about the knees and back, but I was all right. Brenda just wanted you home where she could take care of you, but I said to her, ‘She’ll come home