Alice’s Secret: A gripping story of love, loss and a historical mystery finally revealed. Lynne Francis. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Lynne Francis
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008244286
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herself. When had she become so middle class? ‘Must have been when I married David,’ she thought, then was dragged back to the present by Alys, saying ‘Mum? What should we do?’

      ‘Well, I really should go up and help her,’ said Kate, picking up her cup and absently sipping the cooling tea. ‘But I’ve got so much on over the next few weeks. And you know how I feel about Yorkshire …’ She tailed off, expecting Alys to laugh, but instead her daughter was gazing into space, clearly caught up in her own thoughts.

      ‘I’ll go,’ she said, unexpectedly.

      Kate stared at her. ‘But darling, do you have any holiday owing to you? You’ve only just come back from your trip with Tim? I’m sure Moira would be grateful, but by the sound of it a week, or even two, won’t be enough. Although I suppose I could take over after you leave?’ Kate mentally prepared herself to go into martyr mode.

      ‘The thing is, Mum ’ Alys suddenly looked apprehensive. ‘I came here today to tell you something.’ She paused. Kate looked at her expectantly, her mind racing ahead. Could Alys and Tim have decided to settle down together at last, start a family? Alys was in her mid-thirties now – she really couldn’t afford to leave it much longer. Of course, she’d have to sell that tiny house of hers, lovely garden or not. Heaven knows Tim must earn enough, with that job of his in the city. Maybe Alys was already pregnant? Kate tried to see if there was a bump in evidence, but that shapeless dress made it impossible to tell. She calculated rapidly. It would be an autumn baby, so that would work perfectly. She’d have time to rearrange a few things and she’d still be able to help out at the Christmas Fair, the carol concert, make the mulled wine and mince pies. The run-up to Christmas was always such a busy time.

      ‘Mum!’

      Kate snapped back to attention again. Alys had been talking. ‘Mum, did you hear me?’

      ‘Yes, no – sorry, darling. So, where will you and Tim live?’

      Alys looked at her blankly. ‘Mum, you really weren’t listening, were you? I told you. I’ve given up my job. I need a break from Tim, from London. I hadn’t planned what I was going to do. A bit of travelling, perhaps. I can delay that, though, and go and help Aunt Moira for a couple of months. I’d be glad to. You know I’ve always loved it up there. And, of course, I wouldn’t expect any payment.’

      Alys felt a small burst of excitement at the thought. She’d given up her job as a graphic designer almost on a whim, although the plan had been taking shape in the back of her mind for some time. Days spent staring at a computer screen held no joy for her, and that tricky work issue had finally helped to make her mind up. She’d been putting money aside for a while now, supposedly so she could move from her little house – the closest thing to a cottage that she’d been able to find in London – but really with half a mind to doing something completely different. Travel, voluntary service overseas, who knows? Alys was restless. She knew Kate would say that it was her biological clock ticking and that it was time she settled down and started a family. But she wasn’t entirely sure that Tim was the right person for her.

      Nice, well-brought-up Tim, with his warehouse flat and a good job in the city that took him abroad a lot. Great salary. Good prospects. She’d purposely set out to look for someone other than the sensitive, creative types that she normally fell for. She’d succeeded. Tim was stable and solvent but he was also boring.

      It was Alys’s turn to come back to earth with a bump.

      ‘Alys, whatever were you thinking of?’ demanded Kate. ‘Here we are, with good jobs hard to come by, and you throw yours away! Have you gone mad? I don’t know what your father will say!’

      Alys allowed herself a wry smile. Her father would be too busy on the golf course or at the Rotary Club meetings to pay much attention to what she was up to. As far as he was concerned, his three children were off his hands now they were grown up. He’d step in if he had to, but really, he felt that he’d done his duty by them. Of course, it went without saying that Kate and all of them would be well provided for should anything happen to him.

      Alys pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘Well, I’d say it’s rather good timing myself, considering Aunt Moira’s situation. Look, you email her back and say I’ll be there by Tuesday. I’ll head back to London, sort out a few things at the house, book my ticket and I’ll be on my way.’

      And with that, Alys left the kitchen, leaving Kate stunned, staring blankly at her computer screen. The kitchen door opened again. It was Alys, the rucksack that served as her handbag in hand.

      ‘I’ll be off, then. There’s a train back to London in twenty minutes. If I leave now I’ll just make it. Love to Dad. I’ll be in touch when I’m in Yorkshire, to let you know how Auntie Moira’s doing.’ And then Alys was gone.

      Kate, still reeling after the swift turn of events, noted that the hem was coming down at the back of Alys’s dress. And those army boots looked like they’d not seen any polish in a long, long while.

       Chapter Two

      The interior of King’s Cross station seemed to have been rebuilt when Alys arrived there, which was baffling. Surely the last time that she’d been up to Yorkshire it was as reassuringly familiar as it had been for the last twenty or thirty years? She struggled to get her bearings, disconcerted. She queued in WHSmith for a book of stamps, needing to post a letter before she left, only to discover that the new station seemed to lack a postbox. After dragging her suitcase around outside in the pouring rain, in the hope of spotting a familiar red pillar box, Alys gave up, wet through and anxious about time passing.

      If she’d been travelling with Tim, of course, he would have been at the station far enough in advance to lunch nearby, having worked out beforehand where to eat. His packing would have been well-practised perfection. He would have had exactly the right amount of clothes, with one set to spare. He wouldn’t have had to unzip his case eight times before leaving the house to stuff in more shoes and a hairbrush, then take the shoes out again and put in two jumpers, then take one of the jumpers out and put in a T-shirt instead. Indecision wasn’t Tim’s thing.

      Alys’s forward planning had stretched to buying a sandwich in WHSmith along with the stamps, so now she only needed to stand and stare at the departures board along with everyone else. She tried to think back to when she’d last travelled alone. France, Greece, and that ill-fated trip to India – they’d all been with school or college friends. Paris, Venice, Florida – with Tim, or previous boyfriends. Could this really be the first time ever?

      The train was up on the board, prompting a flurry of activity on the concourse, and a determined rush for the barrier. Alys trekked along the platform to Coach B. It looked as though all the pre-booked seats had been crammed into one carriage, instead of spread out through the train. She settled into her seat with her book, waterproof jacket in the rack above. The letter to Tim was still in her bag so, as soon as she arrived, she’d post it. It stated pretty clearly, she thought, how fondness was not really an option. She was looking for more, or maybe less, than that and so she was going to use this time away to think things through. She allowed herself a small smile, then sighed. It was her way of dodging the issue. In her heart, she knew things were over but she couldn’t bring herself to spell it out. She hoped that he’d get the picture, but Tim was used to things going his own way. He’d call, text, email. Of course, he’d try to change her mind. But she didn’t have to reply, did she?

      Rain coursed down the window. It was such a long train that her coach was already out in the open, exposed to the elements. Every raindrop reflected the leaden sky. The weather was doing nothing to lighten her mood.

      Resolutely, she opened her book. A rare chance to read: something else to be thankful for. This was going to be a journey into a better future, she told herself firmly. No dwelling on past mistakes. It was time to move on.