Read Online The Nutmeg Tree by Margery Sharp - Free Book Online Page A

myself,” said Julia, as they walked up the steps. “It’s so lovely and peaceful.”
    â€œI do hope you won’t be bored here,” said Susan.
    â€œI’m never bored where there’s scenery,” returned Julia grandly. “I just love a nice view.”
    Susan smiled, but did not look particularly reassured. “Grandmother’s room has the best view of any,” was all she said; and opening the door she ushered Julia in.
    3
    Mrs. Packett was sitting in bed wearing a very smart boudoir-cap and a woollen cardigan. She smiled as Julia came in, and held out her hand; but she also had a complaint to make, and with the frank egoism of age at once made it.
    â€œI have been to sleep again,” she announced severely. “Of course I go to sleep if Susan forces me to have breakfast in bed. It’s very bad for me, and there are crumbs among the clothes.”
    â€œYou’ll be up in ten minutes,” said Susan consolingly. “Claudia’s seeing to your bath now.”
    â€œI wanted to get up early ,” insisted Mrs. Packett. “I wanted to be up to meet you, Julia, but Susan wouldn’t let me. She’s not going to let me lunch with you either, because—”
    â€œGrandmother!”
    â€œGo away, Susan.” Mrs. Packett watched her granddaughter out of the room and went on where she had left off. “—Because she wants to put this young man through his paces all by herself. I’m supposed to be a disturbing influence—like in table-turning. As you’ll very soon find out, my dear, Susan does anything she likes with me.”
    Julia smiled.
    â€œNot altogether. You know why I ’m here?”
    â€œOf course I do, and I’m very glad. Draw that curtain back and let me have a look at you.”
    Julia did as she was told and let in a burst of sunlight not only on herself but also upon Mrs. Packett. The old woman stood it well; her plump weather-browned face was fresh and lively, her small grey eyes looked interestedly on the world. Age suited her. As a girl she must have been pretty; in middle life, as Julia remembered her at Barton, she was scarcely distinguishable against the general background of well-bred dowdiness; now she had emerged again, complete and individual, with her prejudices elevated to principles and her dowdiness ripened into distinction. “She’s tough ,” thought Julia admiringly.…
    â€œYou’ve put on weight,” remarked Mrs. Packett. “But you look well. What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”
    Julia paused. The figure of Mr. Macdermot (and of many another) passed rapidly before her inward eye. The day at Elstree when she fell into the fountain (five times in three hours) was fresh in her memory. So were several other episodes, all as poignant and interesting at the time as they were now unsuitable for relation.
    â€œNothing much,” she said. “I’ve just been living in town.”
    â€œYou don’t keep a cake-shop?”
    â€œA cake-shop?” Julia was surprised. “I’ve never thought of it.”
    â€œI have,” said Mrs. Packett energetically. “I was thinking of it only last night. It would just suit you—and you’ve got the capital.”
    Here was some of the thin ice Julia had been dreading. She cut a daring figure on it.
    â€œSuppose I lost the lot?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t, if you had any sense. Everyone I know in London complains that they can never get a homemade cake. I could give you twenty addresses now. I’d write to them all personally. And if you like, while you’re here, I’ll show you my special maids-of-honour.”
    Julia listened to these plans with astonishment: she had never credited her mother-in-law with so much enterprise. But a topic involving capital was not, in her opinion, one to be too closely pursued.
    â€œI’ll think about it,” she said.