Read Online The Empty House by Rosamunde Pilcher - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosamunde Pilcher
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them happen slowly, gradually; let Cara and Nicholas have time to get used to them."
"They're my children."
"But you've never looked after them. You've never had them on your own, except the odd times when Nanny could be persuaded to take a holiday. They'll exhaust you, and honestly, Virginia, at the moment I don't think you're physically capable of doing it. After all, that's why you came here, to recuperate from that loathsome 'flu, and generally have a little peace and quiet, give yourself time to get over the bad things that have been happening. Don't deprive yourself of that. You're going to need all your resources when you do eventually go back to Kirkton and start picking up the threads and learning to live without Anthony."
"I'm not going to Kirkton. I'm going to Bosithick. I've already paid the first week's rent."
Alice's expression stopped being patient and became exasperated.
"But it's so ridiculous! Look, if you feel so strongly about having the children down here, then have them by all means, they can stay here, but for heaven's sake let Nanny come too."
Only yesterday the idea could have been tempting. But now Virginia never even let herself consider it.
"I've made up my mind."
"But why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you discuss it with me?"
"I don't know. It was just something I had to do on my own."
"And where is Bosithick?"
"It's on the Lanyon road . . . You can't see it from the road, but it's got a sort of tower . . ."
"The place where Aubrey Crane lived? But, Virginia, it's ghastly. There's nothing there but moor and wind and cliffs. You'll be totally isolated!"
Virginia tried to turn it into a joke. "You'll have to come and see me. Make sure the children and I aren't driving each other slowly insane."
But Alice did not laugh, and Virginia, seeing her frown and the disapproving set of her mouth, was suddenly, astonishingly reminded of her own mother. It was as though Alice was no longer Virginia's contemporary, her friend, but had swung back a generation and from that lofty height was telling the young Virginia that she was being a fool. But perhaps, after all, this was not so strange. She had known Rowena Parsons long before Virginia was born, and the fact that she had no children of her own to contend with meant that her attitudes and opinions remained rigidly unchanged.
She said at last, "It isn't that I want to interfere, you know that. But I've known you all your life, and I can't stand to one side and watch you do this insane thing."
"What's so insane about having your children on holiday with you?"
"It's not just that, Virginia, and you know it. If you take them away from Lady Keile and Nanny without their approval, which I doubt very much you'll get, there's going to be one devil of a row."
Virginia felt sick at the thought of it. "Yes, I know."
"Nanny will probably take the most terrible umbrage and give in her notice."
"I know ..."
"Your mother-in-law will do everything she can to stop you."
"I know that too."
Alice stared at her, as though she were staring at a stranger. Then suddenly, she shrugged and laughed, in a hopeless sort of way. "I don't understand. What made you suddenly so determined?"
Virginia had said nothing about her encounter with Eustace Philips and had no intention of doing so.
"Nothing. Nothing in particular."
"It must be the sea air," said Alice. "Extraordinary what it does for people." She picked a fallen newspaper off the floor, began folding it meticulously. "When are you going to London?"
"Tomorrow."
"And Lady Keile?"
"I'll phone her tonight. And Alice, I am sorry. And thank you for being so kind."
"I haven't been kind, I've been critical and disapproving. But somehow, I always think of you as someone young and helpless. I feel responsible for you."
"I'm twenty-seven. And I'm not helpless. And I'm responsible for myself."
Nanny answered the telephone. "Yes?"
"Nanny?"
"Yes."
"It's Mrs. Keile."
"Oh, hallo! Do you want to speak to Lady
"They're my children."
"But you've never looked after them. You've never had them on your own, except the odd times when Nanny could be persuaded to take a holiday. They'll exhaust you, and honestly, Virginia, at the moment I don't think you're physically capable of doing it. After all, that's why you came here, to recuperate from that loathsome 'flu, and generally have a little peace and quiet, give yourself time to get over the bad things that have been happening. Don't deprive yourself of that. You're going to need all your resources when you do eventually go back to Kirkton and start picking up the threads and learning to live without Anthony."
"I'm not going to Kirkton. I'm going to Bosithick. I've already paid the first week's rent."
Alice's expression stopped being patient and became exasperated.
"But it's so ridiculous! Look, if you feel so strongly about having the children down here, then have them by all means, they can stay here, but for heaven's sake let Nanny come too."
Only yesterday the idea could have been tempting. But now Virginia never even let herself consider it.
"I've made up my mind."
"But why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you discuss it with me?"
"I don't know. It was just something I had to do on my own."
"And where is Bosithick?"
"It's on the Lanyon road . . . You can't see it from the road, but it's got a sort of tower . . ."
"The place where Aubrey Crane lived? But, Virginia, it's ghastly. There's nothing there but moor and wind and cliffs. You'll be totally isolated!"
Virginia tried to turn it into a joke. "You'll have to come and see me. Make sure the children and I aren't driving each other slowly insane."
But Alice did not laugh, and Virginia, seeing her frown and the disapproving set of her mouth, was suddenly, astonishingly reminded of her own mother. It was as though Alice was no longer Virginia's contemporary, her friend, but had swung back a generation and from that lofty height was telling the young Virginia that she was being a fool. But perhaps, after all, this was not so strange. She had known Rowena Parsons long before Virginia was born, and the fact that she had no children of her own to contend with meant that her attitudes and opinions remained rigidly unchanged.
She said at last, "It isn't that I want to interfere, you know that. But I've known you all your life, and I can't stand to one side and watch you do this insane thing."
"What's so insane about having your children on holiday with you?"
"It's not just that, Virginia, and you know it. If you take them away from Lady Keile and Nanny without their approval, which I doubt very much you'll get, there's going to be one devil of a row."
Virginia felt sick at the thought of it. "Yes, I know."
"Nanny will probably take the most terrible umbrage and give in her notice."
"I know ..."
"Your mother-in-law will do everything she can to stop you."
"I know that too."
Alice stared at her, as though she were staring at a stranger. Then suddenly, she shrugged and laughed, in a hopeless sort of way. "I don't understand. What made you suddenly so determined?"
Virginia had said nothing about her encounter with Eustace Philips and had no intention of doing so.
"Nothing. Nothing in particular."
"It must be the sea air," said Alice. "Extraordinary what it does for people." She picked a fallen newspaper off the floor, began folding it meticulously. "When are you going to London?"
"Tomorrow."
"And Lady Keile?"
"I'll phone her tonight. And Alice, I am sorry. And thank you for being so kind."
"I haven't been kind, I've been critical and disapproving. But somehow, I always think of you as someone young and helpless. I feel responsible for you."
"I'm twenty-seven. And I'm not helpless. And I'm responsible for myself."
Nanny answered the telephone. "Yes?"
"Nanny?"
"Yes."
"It's Mrs. Keile."
"Oh, hallo! Do you want to speak to Lady
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