Dancing Till Midnight by Rosie Goodwin

Author:Rosie Goodwin [Goodwin, Rosie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782921462
Publisher: CB Creative Books
Published: 2013-07-17T23:00:00+00:00

A tap at the door made Grace pause in her restless pacing, and the next second it opened just a crack and Hetty’s head peeped round.

‘It’s only me, love. I heard yer walkin’ about an’ wondered if there were anythin’ I could get yer afore I locked up an’ come to bed.’

Grace smiled. ‘No, Mrs Brambles – Imean, yes, there is actually. I can’t get off to sleep so perhaps you could let me have a key? I think a walk might clear my head a bit.’

‘No problem, love. Though I can’t really say as I approve of a young woman wanderin’ the streets at night. Not wi’ all these bloody mods an’ rockers rampagin’ about causin’ mischief. Still, you’re old enough to please yourself. You’ll find the key in the lock downstairs, an’ don’t call me Mrs Brambles - the name is Hetty.’

‘All right . . . Hetty - thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb you when I come back in.’

Hetty chuckled. ‘You’d have a job. Sleep like the dead I do, once I drop off. It would take an earthquake to wake me, but remember what I said, you just be careful now.’

‘I will,’ Grace promised, and as Hetty softly closed the door she slipped into her coat, which she had hung neatly in the great monstrosity of a wardrobe. Soon she was out in the street. She breathed deeply. Now that she was out she had no idea at all where she was going, so she headed for the town centre. It was deserted save for the odd few who were rushing from one pub to another so that they wouldn’t miss last orders being called.

A thick fog was forming now that it had stopped raining and in places she could barely see her hand in front of her, but all the same it was a relief to be out and about. She came to Bond Gate and of habit her feet started walking in the direction of her aunt’s house. It had been a long time since she had walked that way but tonight the urge was on her to see something and somewhere familiar.

On the Leicester Road bridge she paused to look down on Trent Valley railway station that ran beneath it. The platforms were deserted, except for one solitary guard who was huddled deep into a thick coat as he waited for a train to arrive, and after a time she walked on and turned into Oaston Road. It was strange walking this way after such a long time and when she came to her aunt’s house she stopped to stare at it. It was as if time had stood still, for everything was exactly as she remembered it. The curtains were the same. The front step was still painted the same deep red colour, and the same identical doormat still lay at the front door. Most of the other houses in the street had brightly coloured Christmas trees sparkling in the windows, but the windows of her aunt’s house were unadorned.

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