The Winds Of Heaven by Monica Dickens

Author:Monica Dickens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Coward-Mccann, Inc.
Published: 1955-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

The train slipped through the squalor of Vauxhall and on toward the meek suburbs. Louise took off her hat and watched London fall behind, glad to get away, hoping to find some peace, but knowing that as soon as she was settled in with

Sybil at the hotel, she would wish that she were back among her family again.

A pale October sun was touching the tops of the miniature waves in the Solent. It was cold on the deck of the paddle steamer, but the cabin was stuffy and srnelled of oil. Louise sat in the breeze with a scarf wound round her head and her second coat over her knees, and felt as though she were going abroad.

People who travel to and fro between Portsmouth and the island every day probably pay no more attention to the boat trip than if it were a bus ride. To Louise it was always exciting to chug out of the busy harbor, feeling proud about the warships, past the amusement park at Southsea with its skeleton switchback, and out among the little boats to cross the stretch of water, where the abandoned section of Mulberry Harbor stuck out of the sea like a memorial to the lost men of D-Day.

The island ahead looked enchantingly green. It was like a foreign country, so far away in the haze, and then all at once so close, with Ryde church appearing and the pier suddenly taking shape out of the background, and people beginning to collect suitcases, while the man stood by the rail to throw the rope for the gangway.

When she stepped onto the pier, the very air smelled different. The Portsmouth air smelled of oil and ropes and the mud in which small boys waded for worms. The air of Ryde still smelled of holidays, although the amusement buildings on the pier were closed now, the ice-cream stalls shuttered, and the paint and placards faded and weather-worn at the end of the summer season.

The little train that took her down the pier was only half full, with people who were soberly dressed, instead of degag^ in shorts and open shirts. The season was over. The island was itself again, and the residents came out and looked round thankfully, like birds after rain.

Sybil was waiting at the end of the pier in the green station wagon that said: 'Driffield Court Hotel. Mr. and Mrs. G. V. Vernon, props/

"You look ghastly/' she said, handling Louise's bags into the car with ease, since she was too impatient to find a porter. Sybil was a short, square, blonde woman, with muscles of iron, and legs like -gateposts.

"I expect "I got blown about on the boat," Louise said. She was used to Sybil's bluntness. "And I am a bit tired."

"Too much family," Sybil announced, zooming up the steep main street as if she were a Roman charioteer intent on mowing down the rabble. "How are all your girls, Lou?" Sybil was the only person who called Louise that. It was a relic of school days.

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