Thornyhold by Mary Stewart

Author:Mary Stewart
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2011-02-16T13:00:00+00:00

15

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m Geillis Ramsey and I do seem to be taking over my cousin’s reputation. That’s almost the first thing William said to me, too. Has he been telling tales to you?’

‘Inevitably. His flair for fiction is even better than mine. I’m supposed to be the one who does the inventing round here, and at least I get paid for my efforts, but William’s well on the way to outstripping me. However, he does seem to have introduced us, which is a good mark for him. How do you do, Miss Ramsey? I’m Christopher Dryden.’ As we reached the gate he tipped his son off the bicycle. ‘Run along in, will you, and put the kettle on.’ Then to me: ‘How are you enjoying Thornyhold?’

‘I love it.’

He propped the bicycle against the wall. ‘Not too lonely there?’

‘Not at all. The Trapps have been very helpful, and William, too. I meant to come and see you soon anyway, to ask if it was all right for William to come over so often. Oh, and to thank you myself for the eggs you sent. It was terribly good of you.’

‘They were nothing. Eggs and milk are no problem here. We’re still part of the farm, and the Yellands are very good to us.’

‘And it’s all right about William? I love having him, and he’s a great help, but perhaps you would rather he stayed at home?’

‘Not a bit of it. I’m busy most of the time, and don’t pay enough attention to him, I’m afraid. And he loves Thornyhold. I think he misses your cousin quite a lot.’

‘I gathered that. Well, that’s fine, but I’m afraid poor William gets a lot of work to do when he does come over.’

‘He likes it. And I’m very grateful to you for letting him. I’m afraid that when I’m in the throes of a book I’m very bad company. I’ve tried to time my writing so that I’m free when he’s on holiday from school, but it never seems to work that way. I’ve been hard at it all summer, and haven’t had much time for him, poor chap. Shall we go in now? I’ll show you where to wash, and – William, get that box of plasters and lint and stuff down from the bathroom, will you? – by the time you’ve dealt with those hands of yours the kettle should be ready.’

William did as he was told, then vanished about some concern of his own. I rejoined my host in the farm kitchen, a big, long room with a low ceiling. The old fireplace was there, but its ovens were plainly disused, and an electric stove stood at the far end of the room. Two windows looked out over the pasture; the sills were deep in papers, which did seem to be in some sort of order. Down the centre of the room was a long, scrubbed table, with plates and cutlery set ready at the end nearest the stove; one guessed that between meals they were put straight back on the table as soon as they were washed up.

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