Memories of the Storm Read Online Free Page B

that Jonah's
reaction had renewed her earlier anxiety and
convinced her that something mysterious was happening.
She came up close to her godmother,
looking seriously into her face, and Hester took a
deep, steadying breath.
    'Who was it that he saw?' asked Clio. Her natural
poise had deserted her and she seemed vulnerable,
even frightened. Nevertheless, Hester decided that
this time she must answer truthfully.
    'He saw his grandfather,' she said.

CHAPTER THREE
    It was with an unexpected light-heartedness that
Hester woke next morning. The gale had roared
away to the east, leaving a freshly rinsed, clear
blue sky, and the air was cool and still. The weight
of premonition and anxiety that had arrived so
suddenly with the wild south-westerly wind had now
swept off with it, leaving Hester with an unfamiliar
sense of anticipation. This morning the bright sunshine
that glittered on the dripping trees and
gleamed over the rain-drenched garden mocked at
the fears and terrors of the night and dispelled the
shadows.
    Hester, congenitally uncommunicative until after
her second cup of coffee, was relieved to discover
that Jonah was not inclined to early morning conversation.
He smiled at the two women, accepted
some coffee and picked up a section of the
newspaper. Clio, recognizing the familiar signs,
shrugged mentally and ate her toast in silence.
Jonah ate nothing, drank his cup of black coffee and
then went away to pack his overnight bag, which
gave Clio the opportunity of proposing her plan to
invite Peter down.
    'Of course,' said Hester, pausing in her daily
battle with the crossword. 'It was so kind of him to
let you have the time off to look after me. By all
means invite him to stay. I should very much like to
meet him.'
    She was aware of the sharp look Clio shot at her
but pretended to be absorbed again in her crossword.
She suspected that Clio was trying to decide
whether she should speak openly about her
relationship with Peter – about the personal aspect
of it – and Hester knew that such a disclosure
would require explanations, justifications, even
advice. She would prefer to wait until she'd met this
man with whom Clio had fallen so much in love
before she revealed her own fears. She'd been
in love, long years ago, with a married man: a
university lecturer with whom she'd had a brief
but passionate affair. The remembrance of it made
it difficult for her to criticize Clio's relationship
with Peter, especially as she had no idea how he
felt about his wife, although her instincts told
her that it would be Clio who would suffer most.
Hester had long been hoping that Clio would
open her heart, thus giving them both the opportunity
to speak truthfully but, with Jonah likely to
burst in at any time, this was certainly not the
moment.
    Meanwhile her god-daughter dithered uncharacteristically
at the end of the table, holding her
plate in one hand and the marmalade pot in the
other, and they were both relieved when Jonah
reappeared, bag in hand, and paused to speak to St
Francis, who was washing himself in a slanting
puddle of sunlight in his favourite chair.
    'My parents have a dog,' he said. 'She's a pretty
Sussex spaniel, very sweet, but I rather like this
enormous fellow.'
    'I'm a dog person,' Clio told him over her
shoulder, removing her breakfast things and
picking up her car keys. 'But I can't justify having
one in London. Maybe, one day . . .'
    'It's a pity you won't be here for Lizzie's event,'
said Jonah. 'I think it's going to be fun. Any chance
of getting more time off next spring?'
    Clio grinned. 'Lizzie asked me the same question.
I don't think Peter is quite that philanthropic.'
    'Peter?'
    'Peter's my boss,' answered Clio. Her voice was
proud, defiant and tender, all at once, and Jonah's
eyebrows flicked upwards as if he'd made a rather
disappointing discovery.
    Hester noted his expression.
    'Come back again, Jonah. Come and stay,' she
said to him as they wandered out to the courtyard.
'You must speak to Lucy first