Time to Say Goodbye by Katie Flynn Read Free Book Online Page B

margarine on the latest list because if she’s got enough I’ll teach you how to make your own toffee.’ When the order had come, however, there had been no extra sugar and only a very tiny square of margarine, so making their own toffee was just a dream which could not be realised until the snow allowed the delivery lorries to reach the village once more.
    Imogen crossed the yard and hovered for a moment, unsure of what she should do. She knew both Jill and Auntie, if asked, would forbid her to go off on her own, but this was the first day they had seen the sun for what felt like a lifetime, and she thought that the very blood within her was bubbling with excitement at the promise of spring to come. She told herself that two miles when the weather was sunny would not take her more than forty minutes at the most. She could arrive back at the Linnet with pockets full of sweets and a notebook for her diary even sooner than the others, for Jill would not leave until the milking was finished and probably not even then. Like Auntie, Mrs Pilgrim was a notable housewife and would no doubt insist that her helpers be regaled with her delicious cottage cheese spread on hollow biscuits, to go with the cup of tea she would brew. Possibly there would even be a slice of cake.
    The thought of the missed treat tempted Imogen to turn back and for a moment she hesitated, but then she climbed the bank and looked around her. Herbert and Jacky had come this way because it was easier with the laden sledge, and she was soon able to pick out the marks of the sledge’s runners and the prints of the old men’s boots. If she followed their footprints she would be in the village in no time. She cast one last look around her at the red sun turning the snowy scene to theatrical beauty, then slid down the far side of the bank and began to walk along the path the old men and their sledge had marked. For a moment she contemplated following the cleared path as far as the Canary and Linnet, then shook her head at herself. With her luck Auntie would pop out of the kitchen just as she was making her way past. No, better to take to the fields, follow where the old boys had led and arrive at the village well before closing time.
    I don’t suppose Jill will worry; she’ll think I’ve gone home, Imogen told herself. And anyway, she shouldn’t have laughed when Rita told her about the scrumpled newspaper in the boots. And with that thought she continued on her way.
    Looking around her as she walked she realised for the first time how snow changes a landscape and decided that instead of following the old men’s trail she must stick to within a few feet of the lane, for otherwise she might stray into unknown territory. The trouble was that she was a city girl, knowing only the dirty slush of snow found in a big city, and this was country snow, so beautiful that instead of watching her feet she found herself gazing to right and left, wondering at the beauty of it. The trees were heavily laden still and the wind had sculpted the drifts into the strangest shapes. Castles and palaces, huge waves which reared several feet above her head, mountains and valleys; all caught her eye as she slogged along. Every now and then she thought she saw what must be the lane, but she could not be certain.
    After half an hour or so, however, she began to worry. She had not dawdled but neither had she realised that she would have to deviate from the line she planned to take in order to bypass the enormous drifts, and presently she actually found herself wishing that she had been sensible and stayed with Jill and the others. She imagined them in Mrs Pilgrim’s lovely warm kitchen, sipping hot tea and crowding close to the blazing fire, and caught her breath on a little sob. She had seen no sign of any human habitation, was sure she must have bypassed the Canary and Linnet without realising it, and began to understand how very foolish she had been. She glanced behind her and was a