The Other Child by Charlotte Link Read Free Book Online Page B

only ten years older than her friend had always felt motherly towards her. And yet it was also something that filled her with unease: who was this man? Why had he chosen Gwen? She might be friendly and caring, but she had never yet managed to catch herself a man. She was so old-fashioned, so naive. She could only ever talk about her father, Daddy this and Daddy that, and which man would not be driven crazy by that, sooner or later?
    Jennifer wanted to be happy for Gwen, with all her heart, but she could not. She had caught a glimpse of Dave Tanner the day before, when he came to the farm to pick up Gwen for a meal out, and since then she was even more uneasy. Judging by the car that he drove, he barely had money, and how could he? He made ends meet giving French and Spanish lessons, and lodged in a single furnished room. That did not exactly suggest hidden wealth. However, he was good-looking and seemed sophisticated. She had seen that in the few short moments in which she had observed him from the window of her room. Without a doubt, he could have very different women to Gwen – younger, more pretty and dued-up women, even in his financial difficulties.
    His obviously catastrophic personal situation might be the reason for his romance with Gwen, and the thought of this had not let Jennifer sleep that past night.
    She had held her tongue. To Gwen, at any rate. She had talked about her fears with Colin, who warned her strongly against getting involved. ‘She’s a grown-up. She’s thirty-five years old. It’s time that she made her own decisions. You can’t always protect her!’
    Yes, thought Jennifer, as she looked at the school, peaceful under the afternoon sun of the quiet October day, he’s right. I have to stop trying to save Gwen from all possible mishaps. She’s not my daughter. She’s not even related to me. And even if she were – she has reached an age when she has to make her own choices about her direction in life.
    The door of the front building opened. The people coming out must be on the course that Gwen was on. Jennifer tried not to fall into easy prejudices, nor into an excessive curiosity. What do they look like, the people who see in such a course their last chance to change their lives? Were they like Gwen, blushing easily, somewhat old-fashioned, reserved and actually really nice? Or were they unpleasantly uptight, bitter, frustrated? Aggressive? So ugly that it took your breath away?
    They looked pretty normal, Jennifer realised. Many more women than men. Only two men, in fact. The women were wearing jeans and jumpers, light coats. It was not a cold day. Some were pretty. Not that any of them were stunning beauties, nor were any wearing very bright or provocative clothes. All in all, they were indeed rather retiring people, who would not want to be the centre of attention. They certainly did not give the impression of being at all disturbed, strange or disgusting.
    Jennifer smiled when she saw Gwen, who was wearing a flowery calf-length skirt as always, and big boots. And where had she got that terrible coat? Hopefully her fiance would be able to persuade her to do without it one day.
    Gwen came over, in the company of a man and a woman who both looked to be between thirty and forty. At first glance, the woman looked rather nondescript, but on second glance you noticed that she was really rather attractive. Gwen made the introductions. ‘This is Jennifer Brankley. Jennifer – Ena Witty and Stan Gibson.’
    Ena Witty smiled shyly and mumbled a hi. She had a very quiet voice. Stan Gibson, on the other hand, beamed at Jennifer. ‘Hi, Jennifer. Gwen’s told me a lot about you. And about your dogs. Are they really as big as she says?’
    â€˜Even bigger,’ replied Jennifer, ‘but as gentle as lambs. I shouldn’t really say this, but I’m afraid they’d probably wag their tail even at a burglar, then lick his hand.’
    Stan