In Search of Hope Read Online Free Page A

for a moment, so weary she could hardly move. She’d done it! She’d got here.
    It was Ned who got her going again, calling anxiously, ‘Wanta wee, Mummy.
Mummy!
Hafta go wee-wee.’
    She helped him out and since he was clutching himself and no one seemed to be around, allowed him to wee on to the grass to the side of the car, which he thought great fun.
    When he’d finished, she stayed where she was, studying the cottages. They were very similar to Grandma Rose’s original home, with a third storey and with long mullioned windows across the whole frontage. Weavers’ cottages. She liked the idea of living in one.
    She shivered. What was she doing standing out here? It was cold for May. Holding Ned’s hand firmly, she walked along the short row of dwellings to the end one on the right: the one she’d be living in.
    Please let the key be where Mr Greaves said it was
, she prayed as she walked past the car and peered into ‘her’ cottage window.
    This was such a chancy arrangement, but the lawyer had assured her the key would be where he’d left it.
    As he was coming out of the bathroom, Joss heard a car turn into the lane, something so unusual he went to look out of the front bedroom window. A battered old Ford came to a stop in the common parking area and the driver switched off the engine.
    He was the only one living in the group of cottages now. The others had been empty for several months and the only visitors had been people from the lawyer’s office checking them out regularly. But they wouldn’t be doing that at dusk.
    He couldn’t get a proper look at the face of the woman who got out of the car, but she was moving slowly and stiffly as if something hurt.
    She reached into the rear seat then stepped back to let a little boy scramble out. Joss smiled as the child made jigging movements that showed an age-old need. After a quick glance round she helped him to pull down his pants and relieve himself.
    When she’d set the little boy’s clothing to rights, she took hold of his hand firmly, though he tried to pull away, before walking along the path to Rose’s cottage, next to his. Intrigued, Joss continued to watch her.
    She peered through the front window of the cottage, though he doubted whether she’d see much in the half-light of dusk.
    He sighed as it occurred to him that if she was looking for Rose, he’d have to go and tell her she was too late by six months. He didn’t enjoy being the bearer of sad news and hated it when women cried.
    She vanished round the back of the houses and he wondered what she was doing there. He hurried into the back bedroom, fighting his way quickly into a sweater as he peered out again. She was fumbling on the lintel of the outhouse and as she stepped back her shoulders sagged and she pressed one hand to her mouth.
    He hurried down the stairs and opened the front door, waiting for her to come round to this side of the houses again. ‘Hi there. Are you looking for Rose King?’
    She had been lost in thought and jerked in shock, looking at him warily.
    ‘I’m afraid you’re too late. She died six months ago.’
    ‘Yes. I know that. I just …’
    Even in the fading light Joss could see that her face was white with exhaustion. Suddenly she swayed and before he could get close enough to catch her, she’d crumpled to the ground. ‘Damnation!’
    The little boy started screaming in terror as Joss bent to pick her up, shouting, ‘Don’t hit her! Don’t hit my mummy!’
    He froze, surprised that such a small child would react like that. ‘I’m not going to hit her, lad. I’m going to pick her up. She can’t lie there in the mud.’ He reached out to gather her into his arms just as she started to regain consciousness. The minute he touched her, she began fighting like a wildcat.
    In the end he had to yell, ‘Stop it! I was only trying to help you up!’
    She let out a muffled sob and sagged against him. At that moment he saw her face clearly for the first time,