Return Journey by Ruby M. Ayres

Author:Ruby M. Ayres
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2013-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter

11

Miss Esther had never been so happy in her life, and even the fact that she had been rather evasive in her explanations to her sister when she said that she was “going ashore with the same people,” leaving Miss Pawson to suppose she meant Clive Durham and his sister and the other young folk, she was not in the least conscience-stricken because she knew quite well that she was going with only Sir John.

This was the most wonderful voyage of her life! She had been abroad before, generally to the South of France or to Brittany, because as a rule if they had the money they tried to avoid the winter in England owing to Miss Pawson’s tendency to bronchitis, but this journey to the other side of the world had—since the ship stopped at Toulon—developed into something so utterly different that Miss Esther was afraid to think or to dare to look ahead and wonder what fresh delights were in store for her.

“And it’s all due to Rocky,” she told herself as she tried on all her hats in turn and wondered whether she would dare to venture ashore without a coat or umbrella.

Miss Esther had not really an “umbrella” mind; for one thing she disliked umbrellas and had a tiresome habit of leaving them behind in shops and other people’s houses.

“You should buy one with a hook handle,” the elder Miss Pawson often said. “Then you can hang it on your arm and there will be no fear of forgetting where you left it.”

But Miss Esther did not like hook handles, so on this particular morning as she dressed to go ashore with Sir John Stannard, she carefully avoided glancing in the corner of her cabin where the umbrella stood, and concentrated on the sunshine outside the porthole, and the fact that she had always been told that Port Said was one of the warmest places on earth.

Sir John had told her there was no immediate hurry to leave the ship.

“We shall be here for some hours,” he said, “and you must not get over-tired; there is not a great deal to see.”

“Oh, thank you,” Miss Esther answered gratefully, chiefly because of his concern for her; it was so wonderful that such a man should trouble as to whether she was tired or not; certainly her sister sometimes said, “You’ll only wear yourself out—” or, “You’ve walked about quite enough for one day; lie down and rest.” But that was altogether different, and when finally she decided that the shady little straw hat with the black and white ribbon was the most suitable and becoming, she was so happy and excited that she felt more like seventeen than her right age, which, so the elder Miss Pawson always declared, was nobody’s business but her own.

“It seemed foolish to pretend about such things,” Miss Esther told herself. “After all, everyone gets old—it’s not as if I’m the only one.”

It was funny, Miss Esther thought as she sorted through her glove-box for the nicest-looking pair, how much her life had been ordered by her elder sister.

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