Rose Cottage by Mary Stewart Read Free Book Online Page A

open to look out.
    Beyond the weedy garden with its riot of rose bushes, nothing had changed. The beck, wide here and quiet, slid past below the bridge. Willows and wild roses, cuckoo pint and king cups, and a wood pigeon crooning in the elms.
    And someone crossing the bridge to approach the garden gate.
    It was someone I knew well, my godmother Mrs Pascoe, who had been my mother’s friend and had ‘helped out’ at the Hall when there were guests to stay. She was a little older than Lilias would have been, somewhere nearing her fifties, I guessed; a capable, comfortable woman who never seemed to be either fussed or short tempered – a valuable quality in the sometimes stressful world of a crowded kitchen.
    I went downstairs and opened the door to her.
    ‘Aunty Annie! How lovely to see you!’ We embraced warmly. ‘Do come in! And thank you for the welcome home. I had tea straight away, thanks to you, but the kettle won’t take long to boil up again if you’d like a cup—’
    ‘No, dearie, no. I’ll be going home soon. I just came over to see if you’d got here. I thought you might be on that train. Well’ – following me into the kitchen – ‘let’s have a look at you. You look well, Kathy. You’ve changed a bit, but then how many years is it? Six? Seven?’
    ‘Nearly seven, I’m afraid, but you haven’t changed at all! Not a day older! How’s Uncle Jim? And Davey?’ Davey was their son, who worked alongside his father. He was about my age, and had been in my class at the village school, and later at the Sec.
    ‘Oh, they’re all right. Nothing ever ails them. But what about your Gran? She didn’t sound so clever when she phoned me.’
    ‘I’m afraid she’s had a bad time, flu and then some gastric trouble. They took her into hospital for treatment and tests, but we hadn’t heard the result when Icame south. Did she phone you from the hospital? Well, she’s home now, but she’s keeping her bed for a bit. Look, won’t you sit down?’
    ‘Well, thanks, but just for a minute. I only came along to see if you had all you need.’
    ‘I’m fine, thanks. I brought enough for tonight, and I’ll go up to the village tomorrow. Thank you for the milk and the tea – Gran did tell me that you were coming in to fix the place up, but it was just wonderful to get here and find everything so lovely. You wouldn’t know we’d ever been away! I hope it wasn’t too dirty.’
    ‘It wasn’t so bad. I’ve been coming down about once a month to open up and stop the place getting damp, so there wasn’t all that to do, bar a few spiders to chase out, and a fall of plaster over by the fireplace there. But nothing to worry about, and you can see there’s no damage to the ceiling.’
    I looked where she pointed, but it wasn’t the ceiling I was thinking about. I was remembering the plasterless state of the square of wall behind the Unseen Guest. Presumably she hadn’t lifted the picture down to see that. And possibly – a less comfortable thought – the plaster had been chipped away during the last three or four weeks, since she had last been in to air the cottage …
    ‘How long d’you reckon you’ll want to stay?’ she was asking.
    ‘What? Sorry. Oh, not long, just enough to get Gran’s things sorted and the ones she wants packed up. I suppose you knew that she’d decided to stay up at Strathbeg? I doubt if she’ll ever come back here.’
    ‘She didn’t say much, but I thought that would be how it was. I suppose she feels at home there. Oh, well. Look, dearie, can I change my mind? I’ll take a cup, if you’ll have another with me yourself?’
    Over the fresh brew of tea I told her about Gran’s new house in Strathbeg, and the furniture that was to be sent north. She already knew something about it from Gran herself, and had talked it over with her husband. Mr Pascoe knew a good firm of carriers in Sunderland who would do the moving, she said, and she and Davey, when he could, would help me