Women of a Dangerous Age by Fanny Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

exactly as she wanted? This could be her chance for a new start in life. How Jenny would have liked that: so infinitely preferable to the idea of a stranger taking over her home. Her sister had been the only one in the world who knew what Lou really felt about her husband in recent years, about her marriage. She would be so pleased to have helped her to an escape route. If her death was teaching Lou anything, it was to squeeze every drop out of life while you had it. There was no knowing when it would end. That same evening she had told Hooker she was leaving him.
    To begin with he hadn’t believed her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he’d said. ‘You don’t mean it.’ But she did, and over the following two weeks of protracted and painful rowing had finally got him to accept that her mind was made up. ‘You’ll be back,’ he said. ‘You won’t like being on your own.’ But the more he poured scorn on her plan, the more determined he made her. Any reservations she might have had were quashed.
    In the living room, everything was as she’d left it. She tucked her knitting bag under the Eames chair that had been Jenny’s pride and joy, then sat and opened her laptop on herknee. With tea and a small(ish) slice of home-made Christmas cake on the low table by her side, she lifted her feet onto the ottoman and began to download her photographs. Unpacking could wait. As the images materialised in front of her, she was ambushed by memories: Jaipur’s Palace of the Winds; a Brahmin village chief preparing the opium ceremony; the swaying elephant ride up to the Amber Fort; groups of enchanting dark-eyed children; an old woman cooking chapattis over a fire in her front yard; and so they kept on coming.
    At the same time as wishing herself back there, Lou also felt a deep pleasure at being back home. Now India was over, she was ready to concentrate on making a new life alone. The trip had given her a necessary shot of energy. Her current exhaustion aside, she felt stronger, empowered (though she hated the word), braced for whatever life would throw at her. Breaking up with Hooker had not been easy and she had an unpleasant sense that her problems might not be entirely over, but she felt ready to deal with whatever he threw at her next. The colours of Rajasthan had inspired her as much as the fabrics that she’d been shown in the large fabric emporiums where roll after roll of silk and cotton had been pulled out for her. She was itching to get on with her new summer designs for the shop. As she gazed at a photo of a sari stall in the Jodhpur market – all clashing colours, crowds and chatter – the phone rang.
    â€˜Mum?’ Nic’s voice sounded different.
    â€˜Darling! Did you have a good Christmas?’ Lou felt the familiar fillip to her spirits that came whenever she heard from one of her children.
    â€˜I need to see you.’
    Lou hit earth with a bump. Not even a Did-you-have-a-good-holiday? So this was how it was going to be. And just because she’d decided to absent herself for a fortnight to avoid any awkwardness over the Christmas break. She hadn’t only been thinking of herself, but of the kids who would have been caught between their feuding parents. ‘When were you thinking?’ she asked. As the high that had accompanied her arrival home from the flight began to dissipate, Lou thought with some longing of her clean-sheeted bed that was waiting upstairs.
    â€˜Today? Now?’ Was that urgency or was her daughter just being her usual demanding self?
    â€˜Has something happened, Nic?’
    â€˜I’ll tell you when I see you. I’ll be about an hour.’
    â€˜And I can show you—’
    But Nic had hung up. Lou took a bite of leftover Christmas cake. Mmm, possibly the best she’d made yet. Outside, a train rattled by on the other side of the garden wall: a sound that made her feel at home.
    An hour. Not