Winter of Change by Betty Neels

Author:Betty Neels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1973-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS HEAVEN for three or four days, during which Mary Jane explored the house from attic to cellar, examining with affection the small treasures her grandfather had possessed and which were now hers. She worked in the garden too, sweeping the leaves from the frosty ground, and went walking each day beside the lake with Major. It was cold now, and the snow had crept further down the mountains, but the sun still shone. She drove to Keswick, and to Carlisle to see Mr North, reflecting that it would have been marvelous weather for riding. But she had stubbornly refused to allow Fabian to choose a horse for her, and only after he had pressed the matter had she said that she wouldn’t buy one at all if she couldn’t have her own way; a decision she was regretting, for she had cut off her nose to spite her face, and a lot of good it had done her.

He hadn’t even bothered to write to her—out of sight, out of mind, she muttered bitterly to herself, quite forgetting that she had hardly contributed to increase any desire on his part to have any more to do with her other than businesswise. It was that night, as she lay in bed very much awake, that she made the astonishing discovery that she actually missed him. She examined this from all angles and decided finally that it was because his extreme bossiness had imposed itself far too firmly upon her mind. Well, she was free of him now. She had a house of her own and what seemed to her to be quite a fortune—she could do exactly what she liked, whether he liked it or not—and she would too. She fell asleep making rather wild plans.

She found herself, as the days passed, filling them rather feverishly, quite often doing things which didn’t need doing at all, taking walks which became increasingly longer, making excuses to get out the Mini and drive into Cockermouth or Keswick, and although she was happy she was lonely too, missing the rush and bustle of hospital life. In a few short weeks it would be Christmas and she wondered what to do about it. She hadn’t a relation in the world whom she knew of and her friends were miles away in London, and what was more, they wouldn’t be free over Christmas—nurses seldom were. She wondered what her grandfather and Mrs Body had done in previous years and went to ask that good lady, who chuckled gently and said:

‘Well, Miss Mary Jane, not a great deal—your grandfather liked his turkey and his Christmas pudding, and his friends came in for a drink. When he was younger, he used to give a dinner party—even have a few of his closer friends to stay, but they’ve died or gone away. The last few years have been a bit quiet.’ She looked a little wistful. ‘I suppose you haven’t any friends who could come—a few jolly

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