The Long Road Ahead. Rosie James. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Rosie James
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Сказки
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474035415
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      ‘His. Well, theirs. The Carmichaels’. I’d gone to their house in Clifton to talk about a business matter – or so I’d thought – but it didn’t exactly turn out to be the sort of business I’d imagined!’

      Valerie folded her arms and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. ‘Oh, how romantic,’ she breathed. ‘He’s tall, and handsome…and is he rich as well?’

      Alice looked Valerie fondly. The girl seemed as excited as if all this had happened to her. ‘You said you’d always loved him, Alice,’ Valerie went on slowly. ‘And did you know, from the very beginning, that you really, really did love him? And that you were meant for each other?’

      Alice waited before answering. Wasn’t that the identical question she had asked her mother all that time ago? And Alice would give exactly the same answer she’d heard that night. ‘Yes, Valerie,’ she said, ‘I have always loved him, from the very beginning, and I knew we were meant for each other. But I couldn’t be sure if he felt the same about me. It was only three days ago that he revealed his true feelings. And I’d never dared to hope that the day would come,’ she added truthfully.

      By this time Valerie was almost overcome with emotion. This was like something from the pictures! She went across to Alice and hugged her.

      ‘Well, I think he’s the luckiest man in the whole, wide world, whoever he is!’ she said flatly. ‘Because you say that he’s handsome – but you are beautiful, Alice…I can see people, men, take a second glance at you every time they come in here, or when we’ve been out together. And Rex – from the Bristol branch where you used to work – is mad about you…yes, he is, Alice,’ she declared, as Alice made to disagree. ‘I can see it every time he comes down here – that’s why he keeps making excuses to drive all the way from Bristol and take us out to lunch and stuff. He can’t take his eyes off you!’

      ‘Well, anyway, I think I’ve answered all your questions, Valerie,’ Alice said quickly – ‘except the one about whether Sam is rich. And I honestly don’t think he can be. It’s true he comes from a well-established family in Bristol – his father is a professor of medicine – a surgeon – and the Clifton house is very nice. But that doesn’t belong to Sam who’s training to be a surgeon himself,’ she added. ‘He’s got a long way to go to reach the same status as his father.’

      This was becoming all too much for Valerie. ‘Oh Alice,’ she murmured, ‘you are going to marry a very tall, very handsome, very clever man who you’ve always loved and who loves you… I’m going to start crying in a minute…’

      Alice stood up. ‘Don’t do that, Valerie,’ she said, ‘because we’ve got our first customer. He’s looking in the window and he’s coming in now…’

      Thanks to the fact that they had one or two genuine enquiries about house purchases and flat lettings, the day was passing quite quickly. Though it was difficult to concentrate because every time they had a quiet spell, all Valerie wanted to do was talk about the engagement.

      ‘Have you fixed a date yet?’ the girl wanted to know as she tucked into one of the fresh currant buns with the sugary tops which she’d bought for them to celebrate. ‘I don’t expect it’ll be until next year, will it,’ she added, licking her fingers, ‘because weddings take ages and ages to arrange, don’t they…there’s always so much to decide! I remember when my brother was getting married – the first time, I mean – it nearly gave Joan a nervous breakdown!’

      Alice nearly choked on her bun. She didn’t need anyone saying things like that! ‘Oh, we don’t really know the date yet,’ she said, crossing her fingers against the little white lie. But she’d made up her mind that it was better to say nothing about when she might be leaving…for all sorts of reasons. And one of the lesser reasons was that she knew Valerie would be really upset. The girl had said, so often, that she had never been happier than working here with Alice…because the days never seemed long since they were usually so busy, and that they always got on well together and sometimes had fits of the giggles about some of the clients…and that for the first time in her life she always looked forward to coming to work. Her enthusiasm had been quite touching, Alice had often thought. She shrugged inwardly. Disruptions usually cause someone some upset, but there was no need to upset Valerie just yet. ‘I’m sure we’ll discuss dates…things like that,’ she said airily, ‘when Sam comes down. There’s no rush.’

      When Alice got back home that evening – quite late thanks to the couple who kept on and on about what they were looking for, and who insisted on telling her their life story while they were about it – there were two letters on the mat which had arrived in the afternoon post.

      Alice picked them up, shrugged off her coat, and as usual went straight into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Then she switched on the light and sat down on the stool to examine the writing on the envelopes. And smiled. The first one had Eve’s neat, precise handwriting on it, and the other one was from Fay. Her bold scrawl, taking up nearly all the space on the envelope, was unmistakable. How funny that they should both be writing to her on the same day, Alice thought briefly. They hadn’t been in touch for a while. (And neither had she, to be fair.)

      She opened Eve’s first.

      Dearest Alice

      Look, spring is almost here and we still haven’t arranged to meet! My offer of afternoon tea at the Royal still stands – I’m dying to tell you everything that’s been going on, and I’m wondering if Sunday week is any good for you? The thirteenth? I rang Fay at Miss Downs’s place, and that day is OK for her…so will you please ring me at home, and let me know? You have our number. I would love to contact you at your office, but I know that personal calls in business are always frowned upon – even though you are the boss! And I’m sure that whatever time of day I chose to ring would be the most inconvenient and that I would probably ruin the best deal you’d had for ages! I do hope you can make it. It’s over three months since we’ve been together, and I promise I shall be much more jolly this time!

      With my love, Alice – Evie.

      Alice put the letter aside, smiling. Evie was such a patent little thing, and her happiness was bubbling right over, you could feel it. And straightaway Alice knew that Sunday week would be all right for her, too, because just before leaving work, she’d phoned the Clifton house and spoken to Sam about his visit to Dorchester.

      This coming Saturday, he was going to slip a ring on her finger! They were going to choose it together…and Alice knew that it was going to be beautiful…sparkling…glamorous…special…

      But it wouldn’t have mattered to her if it was an old curtain ring he picked up from the gutter. All that mattered was the promise it held.

      By now, the kettle had boiled for her cup of tea, and Alice decided to wait a few more minutes before opening the letter from Fay. To hold off the moment. To look forward to it for just a bit longer. Why had her letters always meant so much to her, she asked herself? Well, she knew the answer to that. It was because they’d been thought about, touched, handled and written by people – loved people – who had taken the trouble to sit down and think about her…who had taken the time to say what had been on their minds and hearts. Surely the time would never come when letter-writing became a thing of the past? When you had no reason to look forward to seeing the postman come up the path? Surely not?

      It was a relief to Alice that, after a spell of unexplained loss of appetite, it had started to return…that she actually felt hungry at the appropriate times. And today was no exception. She’d seen a lovely pork chop for tenpence in the window of the small butcher’s on the corner, and she was going to grill it with some mushrooms, and have it with potato chips. There was enough lard in the cupboard to do that. Alice loved chips, especially straight out of newspaper and eaten with your fingers. With plenty of salt and a good splash of vinegar. She smiled to herself as she remembered her birthday last year when, as a complete surprise, Fay and Evie and Rex had all come down from Bristol for the occasion. And Valerie and her brother Ronnie were there, too, and they’d all walked along a very chilly