The Courtyard by Marcia Willett Read Free Book Online

that Nell had insisted on for the two years would be finished. John felt his stomach tighten. Supposing … ? He picked up his glass and went to the bar.
    â€˜Same again, please.’
    Â 
    GUISSIE WATCHED THE APPROACH of autumn with fear in her heart. Her mind turned this way and that, seeking new ways of making economies, of keeping warm, of paying the rent. The money simply wouldn’t stretch. The summer visit to Nethercombe had been a mad extravagance, paid for by the sale of her last remaining pieces. The trouble was that buyers recognised the look and smell of poverty and she knew that she should have got much more. In the end she was grateful for what they gave her. It bought her a return ticket to Totnes and left her a tiny sum against the depredations of winter. Perhaps now was the time to leave her flat and move to a bedsit. Gussie put her thin, age-mottled hands over her eyes and shook her head. Whilst she could move from her bedroom to this sitting room, tiny though it was, and have a separate kitchen and bathroom, life still held a shred of dignity. But to live, eat, cook, sleep all in one room … Gussie took her hands from her eyes and straightened her thin shoulders. ‘Soldier’s daughter, soldier’s sister,’ she murmured but the mantra was beginning to lose a little of its power and she turned to a more reliable and infinite source of support.
    â€˜The thing is, Lord,’ she sighed, getting to her feet and wondering whether a mid-morning cup of coffee was too much of a luxury to be considered, ‘where one lives really shouldn’t matter, I know that. But it does. Pride’s a terrible thing but it does help to keep one going, but I know that You, Lord, will help me to bear whatever may come. And I have dear Nell who is such a comfort.’ She opened the
fridge door and stared bleakly at the small quantity of milk in the bottle. Her experienced eye assessed it: two more cups of tea or coffee, three at the most. One after lunch and one at tea-time and just enough for an early morning cup before the milkman arrived. She could only afford one pint every other day. Or she could have a late night cup of tea, so comforting and warming at bedtime, and hope that she didn’t wake too early …
    â€˜I’m afraid not this morning,’ she said, turning from the emptiness of the fridge. ‘Why is it, dear Lord, that we always crave most for what we can’t have? We all drink far too much tea and coffee. All the same – ’
    The telephone’s cry interrupted her communication with the Almighty and she hastened to lift the receiver.
    â€˜Gussie?’ Nell’s voice was clear and cheerful. ‘How are you?’
    â€˜Nell, my dear. Very well. And you?’
    â€˜Fine. We’re all fine. Listen. Jack and I want to take you out to lunch. No. No excuses. He’s off to school next week and he wants to say goodbye to you. And it’s to thank you for babysitting. All right, Jack.’ Gussie could hear Jack’s voice in the background, uplifted in protest. ‘I know you’re not a baby. OK. For Jack-sitting, then. Sorry, Gussie. Please come. How about today? It’s such a perfect day. We thought that we’d head out into the country. Are you busy?’
    â€˜No.’ Gussie felt an unusual and unwelcome suspicion of moisture about her eyes. ‘No. Not busy at all. I should like to very much.’
    â€˜That’s wonderful. We’ll pick you up in about half an hour. Oh, hang on, Jack’s saying something about a book. You were going to write down the title and author for him. Something about the Romans?’
    â€˜Oh yes. I did promise him. He’s doing it in History next term. But I wasn’t certain if he really wanted it.’
    â€˜He certainly does. He’s nodding madly. If you could then. We’ll have some coffee somewhere on the way. See you soon.’
    The line went dead and Gussie