Reckoning by Kate Cary

Author:Kate Cary [Cary, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-7803-1014-5
Publisher: Egmont
Published: 2011-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

Becky came out of the kitchen as I descended the stairs. Her sleeves were rolled up, and there were soapsuds on the apron she wore. She smiled when she saw me.

“Supper’s almost ready. Why don’t you stoke up the fire while I finish the tray?” she suggested, ushering me through the parlour door.

I knelt before the hearth and rebuilt the fire that Mrs. Frobisher had laid for the guests. I was grateful for the task, and by the time I had the flames roaring once more in the grate, Becky had returned with a tray of tea and sandwiches.

She placed it on the table beside what had been Father’s chair, saying, “I don’t care whether you are hungry or not—you must at least eat a sandwich.”

Taking the plate she offered me, I curled up on the sofa, the warmth of the fire permeating my nightgown, helping me to relax a little. “Dear Becky, I am so glad you are able to be here with me tonight,” I told her.

“So am I,” she answered as she poured out two cups of tea from the pot.

I could not help but smile. “I didn’t drink the other one,” I confessed.

“Ah, well, I won’t tell Jane,” Becky joked. “But you’d better drink this one—my mother always says there’s not much a good cup o’ tea won’t improve the outlook of.”

She leaned forward to pass me the cup. “What a pretty pendant!” she exclaimed, noticing the vial of holy water against the neck of my nightgown. Normally concealed behind high collars, it now hung on its gold chain, clearly visible against my neck.

I touched the small crystal bottle self-consciously. “I too like to keep the boggarts at bay,” I told her, trying to keep my tone light—though the memory of having seen Quincey Harker here in Purfleet that very afternoon sent my mind reeling again.

“It’s holy water!” Becky gasped in amazement. “I did not take you for a superstitious soul, Mary!”

“It’s more a memento of a trip I once took than anything,” I lied.

Fearing she might ask more about the vial or the trip for which I claimed it a memento, I hurriedly asked, by way of distraction, “Won’t Helen miss you tonight?”

Becky shook her head with a wry smile. “She’ll be glad of the peace—and the privacy. Normally we use the room at different times, what with our working different shifts—but when I have a night off, we can find ourselves tripping over each other.”

“The company must be comforting, though,” I pointed out.

Becky nodded. “It is,” she agreed. “I’ll miss Helen when she leaves to marry her Johnny. I’m sure it won’t be long, now he’s back home. And then I’ll have to get used to sharing with someone new. . . .” She sighed wistfully. “I would so love to know how it feels to have a room all my own!”

“Have you never had one?” I asked, surprised.

“I’ve four sisters at home and three brothers.”

“Really!” As an only child, I had often longed for sisters and brothers.

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