Peppercorn Street by Anna Jacobs Read Free Book Online Page A

places, knew her mother would have disapproved of ‘dirty’ books, but was desperate for some more reading material. Sometimes she ran out of new books before she could get to the library.
    To her delight she found shelves of romance novels on offer cheaply at four for a pound, tatty and worn but perfectly readable. She bought a dozen and had trouble balancing the carry bag on top of her loaded shopping bag.
    ‘Shall I tie this on for you, dear?’ the woman behind the counter said, smiling cheerfully.
    Winifred hated being called ‘dear’ by complete strangers, but she understood that sometimes, as now, it was done with the best of intentions. ‘Yes, please. I have a ten-minute walk to get home.’
    ‘Look, I finish here in five minutes. If you like, I could drive you home, then you could choose even more books, if you wanted.’
    This offer was so unexpected Winifred couldn’t hide her surprise.
    The woman smiled again. ‘My mum has trouble carrying stuff home too. I take her shopping every week for the big stuff.’
    ‘But you don’t even know where I live!’
    ‘If it’s a ten-minute walk, it’ll only be two minutes by car. No trouble to me.’
    ‘Oh. Well, that’d be very kind of you, very kind indeed. I live in Peppercorn Street.’
    ‘Oh, that’s easy to find.’
    ‘Thank you. I do miss being able to drive, but my eyesight isn’t good enough nowadays. And I
will
buy some more books, in that case. Most kind.’
    ‘There’s a chair in the corner, if you want to sit down. My name’s Dawn, by the way.’
    Winifred introduced herself but was too busy choosing books to sit. She indulged in a perfect orgy of book-buying, and all for a ridiculously small amount of money.
    Her new acquaintance stopped the car outside the house. ‘Do you live here? Lucky you. I’ve often admired this house and been glad it hasn’t been converted into flats. Some of those developers are philistines and ruin beautiful old buildings, even if they don’t knock them down. Comeon, I’ll help you carry your bags inside. You did go mad on the books, didn’t you? You must read a lot.’
    ‘It’s my favourite pastime.’
    When they were inside the house, Winifred nerved herself to ask, ‘Would you, um, like a cup of tea?’
    ‘Not today. I have to get on. But maybe another day, if you’d like some company? I could bring Mum round with me. She’d enjoy a little outing. Her best friend just died and she’s lonely, poor thing. But I’ll perfectly understand if you don’t want to …’ She let the words trail away.
    Winifred realised what Dawn was really asking and for once she let go of her mother’s deeply inculcated training to keep one’s feelings to oneself and said in a rush, ‘That’d be lovely. I’ve just lost my best friend, too. How about Monday afternoon? Or Tuesday? Any day, really.’
    ‘Monday, then. About three?’ Dawn left with a cheery wave.
    When she’d gone Winifred sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. What had she been thinking to invite complete strangers to tea? Accepting pity, that’s what. Only … Dawn said her mother was also lonely, so that was probably why she’d made the offer.
    Was it possible to make new friends at the age of eighty-four? Winifred took a deep breath and nodded to her reflection in the mirror. She was going to try. She really was.
    She must work out in advance what to talk about, though. She was hopeless at thinking of things to say on the spur of the moment. And she would bake a cake, a chocolate cake. That at least she was good at.
    She’d spent more than she’d intended on books, but it wasn’t a lot really, considering, and she now had three whole bags of new romances to read.
    She washed the dishes after tea, standing looking out at her back garden as the light began to fade, her pleasure diminishing slightly. What would her visitors think of such a messy garden?
    But she didn’t dare try to do any tidying up herself. Last time she’d made an effort to