The Shortest Journey Read Online Free

of the almond and the winter cherry
blossom.
    ‘I do thank God every year,’ she said, ‘that I’ve
lived to see another spring.’
    ‘Oh yes,’ I said, ‘like the Housman poem–
     
    “Fifty years is little room
    To look at cherry trees in bloom.”
     
    ‘I think that wasting your life is the worst crime,
really,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Worse than suicide, even.’
    I was startled. ‘But you,’ I said, ‘you haven’t
wasted your life. You ran that great big house, you did a lot for
the county– all that voluntary work – you brought up Alan and
Thelma...’
    My voice died away. I couldn’t quite bring myself to
mention Colonel Rossiter.
    ‘Yes, of course, you’re right, dear, I’ve had a very
full life.’ Her voice was brisk. ‘Don’t take any notice of me –
it’s the spring, I expect!’
    We got to the door of West Lodge and I hugged her in
farewell, but she didn’t go in.
    ‘I think I’ll just go for a little stroll along the
sea-front before lunch,’ she said. ‘Take care of yourself and give
my love to Michael. How lucky you are to have that dear boy. It
would have been lovely to have a grandchild – but, of course, with
the business – well, Thelma had to make a choice and I do quite
understand. God bless you, my dear.’
    She walked round the corner and crossed over to the
promenade and I watched the slight figure slowly moving along
towards the harbour, occasionally stopping to look at the gulls
wheeling and swooping along the foreshore.
    I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t returned my
library books so I turned back into the town. I was standing by the
trolley of returned books hoping, as I always did, that the fact
that other people had just been reading them might make them,
somehow, more desirable, when an arm reached past me to snatch up a
Catherine Cookson. I turned, half in protest at being jostled, and
saw that the eager reader was Annie Fisher.
    ‘Hello, Annie,’ I said, ‘how’s the world treating
you?’
    ‘Oh, Mrs Malory – mustn’t grumble, I suppose. But I’m
glad the year’s on the turn – I don’t like the winter and that’s a
fact.’
    ‘Yes, well, we’ve got the spring to look forward to
now,’ I said. Then, to make conversation, I went on, ‘I’ve just
been having coffee with Mrs Rossiter. I met her in Smiths.’
    ‘She’s never been let out, has she? That’s really
criminal. Poor lady, she’s been really poorly. That Mrs Wilmot –
calls herself a matron – no idea of looking after old people. They
need keeping warm and resting. Mrs Rossiter should still be in her
bed, not gallivanting all over the town!’
    She appeared to be quite upset and I hastened to
reassure her.
    ‘She seemed all right to me,’ I said. ‘A bit thin, of
course, but that’s only to be expected after she’s been ill. She
was in very good spirits – we went to Baxter’s.’
    ‘You never made her go up all those stairs?’ Annie’s
sharp little face glared up at me so fiercely that I felt guilty
and uncomfortable. ‘Not with her heart being like it is!’
    ‘We took them very slowly, Annie, and she did enjoy
going there again.’
    ‘Well, it’s to be hoped that she went straight back
and had a nice lie down.’
    I refrained from telling her about Mrs Rossiter’s
walk along the sea-front. I tried to remember if Annie had always
been as over-protective of her mistress in the old days but, of
course, when Colonel Rossiter had been alive she had been very
firmly kept in her place. To change the subject I asked if she had
any news of her brother in Australia. She became quite
animated.
    ‘Well, fancy you asking me that, Mrs Malory! I had a
letter from Sam only this morning. He says he’s coming over next
month – isn’t that wonderful? I know Mrs Rossiter will be so
pleased to see him again. It’ll be just like the old days.’
    I must have looked puzzled for she said impatiently,
‘Sam used to be gardener up at the Manor before he went away.’
    ‘Yes,