Read A Week in Winter: A Novel for Free Online

moonlight.
    Slowing the car a little, peering into the mist ahead, Maudie remembered the old wooden swing in the shade of the escallonia hedge where Emily would sit, idly pushing herself, dreaming about her forthcoming wedding, whilst Posy splashed about in the paddling pool, squealing with delight. Daphne would lie, recumbent on the old plaid rug, her book open across her chest, her eyes closed, as Maudie poured iced lemonade from a tall, frosted jug, the sunshine burning her bare arms. Later they would have an early supper in the huge, cool kitchen; swimsuits drying on the rack above the old solid-fuel Aga; Posy, newly scrubbed, drowsing in her high chair; Emily, bright-faced, chin in hands, describing her wedding-gown; Daphne moving quietly between table and range, cutting new brown bread, placing a bowl of sweet, wine-red raspberries beside a bowl of thick, crusted, yellow clotted cream.
    Darling Emily: what an enchanting bride she’d been at the end of that magical summer; drifting up the aisle in cloudy white, with small Posy staggering behind, the train clutched in hot, determined fists, the wreath of flowers askew over her eyes. Darling Emily, slender and fragile beside Tim’s tall, broad-shouldered figure. The next summer they’d returned toMoorgate. Emily was pregnant and Tim had agreed that the country air would do her good. This time, however, Selina and the boys had been members of the party and Maudie and Daphne feared ructions. By sheer good fortune, some of Selina’s friends had taken a cottage at Rock and the boys had been loud in their insistence that it was more fun to be on the golden sands with their chums than to be impeded by two old women, one young pregnant one and their small, tiresome sister. Reluctantly Selina had given way before the demands of her sons and her friends so that, once again, the four were left much to their own delightful devices. For a few years the pattern had continued, until Hector had decided that Moorgate should be let on a long lease.
    Young though she’d been, Posy insisted that she could remember those summers, had even, once, whilst staying with friends, insisted on being driven over to see Moorgate. The long-suffering tenants had given them tea and let Posy show her friends over the house. Her love for Moorgate was more genuine than Selina’s, and Maudie dreaded breaking the news to her. She hoped that Posy was too involved with her friends and her studies to be truly miserable but it would not be a pleasant task. Posy was her darling; the baby who had broken down her defences, shattered her pride and made her vulnerable.
    ‘We all have our favourites,’ Daphne had said once, her eyes on Emily’s sleeping, peaceful face. ‘It’s only natural, I suppose. The thing is not to let it show to the others.’
    Emily had been everyone’s favourite, arriving long after Daphne and Philip had given up hope of having children. She had Daphne’s short nose and small square chin, her cornflower-blue eyes and blonde hair. Even if she hadn’t been such a miracle child she would still have been special. She was beloved of old and young alike; sweet-tempered, merry-hearted, generous, fun.
    ‘She’s such a darling,’ people exclaimed—and so she was. Daphne brooded over her with an odd mixture of delight, relief and gratitude that touched Maudie’s heart.
    ‘You are besotted with that child,’ she’d said—and Daphne had looked almost guilty, defensive.
    ‘She might so easily have been a boy,’ she’d answered.
    ‘You’d have loved him just the same,’ Maudie had suggested, surprised.
    ‘Yes,’ she’d replied quickly. ‘Yes, of course. Only I’d always so longed for a little girl, you see.’
    How anxious Daphne had been whilst Emily was having her babies; how relieved when it was over.
    ‘It’s a girl, Maudie,’ she’d cried down the telephone. ‘She looks just like Emily. Both quite well. Oh, thank God! Thank God!’
    She’d been quite hysterical