Tabitha in Moonlight by Betty Neels Read Free Book Online Page A

discussion with his friend into which he drew her at once, almost as though he hadn’t noticed that she had been gone; she joined in, almost convinced that she had been oversensitive and that he hadn’t given her that peculiarly penetrating look after all. By the time they were ready to go back to see Jimmy’s now unplastered leg, she was persuaded that she had been rather silly.
    The male members of the party, having viewed the leg, fell to a lively discussion on the game of Rugby football and she stood patiently listening until the smell of the patient’s dinners reminded her that the round had taken longer than usual. She sent Mr Steele a speaking glance which Mr van Beek intercepted. ‘Ah, dinners, Sister—am I right?’ He led the way to the ward door, where, probably unaware that the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding were getting cold, he paused to thank her agreeably for her assistance and wish her a good day. She watched the three men walk away without haste up the corridor, Mr van Beek looming head and shoulders above his companions.
    She saw him only very briefly the next day and in the evening she went to Chidlake.
    It was a beautiful early evening, and because she was in no hurry, she took a cross-country route which led her along narrow, high-hedged lanes which wound in and out of villages well away from the main roads and still preserving an old-world charm quite hidden from the motorists on the highway. She stopped briefly at Ottery St Mary for petrol, and took a small back road which climbed steeply towards the coast, and after a while crossed the main coastal road into a country lane roofed with overhanging trees. The lane wound its way casually for a mile or so down to the village and although she couldn’t see the sea yet, it was close by. Presently the trees parted, leaving the lane to go on by itself between fields and an occasional house or row of cottages. Tabitha stopped then, for now she could see Chidlake and, beyond its roof, the sea, with the Dorset coast spreading itself grandly away into the evening’s dimness. The view was magnificent; she sat back and enjoyed it, longing to be going home to her mother and father, instead of to two people who had no love for her; no liking even. She was only too well aware that the onlyreason she had been invited now was because her stepmother felt that it was the right thing to do.
    Tabitha started up the car and went on down the hill towards her home. She wasn’t looking forward to the next two days, but at least she would see some old friends at the dance, and that would be pleasant. She turned off the lane and up the short drive to the house, a pleasant Georgian edifice, not large, but roomy enough to shelter a fair-sized family in its rambling interior. She stopped in front of the rose-covered porch and got out, taking her case with her, and went indoors.
    The hall extended from front to back of the house and she could see the garden through its open door, still colourful in the evening light, as she went into the sitting room. It was large and low-ceilinged with French windows leading to the lawn beyond. Its furniture was the same as Tabitha remembered from her earliest childhood; beautiful, graceful pieces which had been in the family for many years, and although her stepmother hadn’t liked them, she had had to admit that they suited the house, so they had been allowed, mercifully, to stay. Her stepmother was seated by a window, reading, and although she put down her book when Tabitha went in, she didn’t get up but said sharply: ‘You’re late. We had dinner, but I daresay there’s something in the kitchen if you want it.’ She eyed Tabitha with cool amusement. ‘That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing, but what a pity it’s wasted on you. I must say, Tabitha, you don’t grow any better looking. What a good thing you have the sort of job where looks don’t