A Mother’s Gift: Two Classic Novels. Josephine CoxЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter 2

      AT EIGHT O’CLOCK that evening, Ben arrived at the front door of Knudsden House. Standing on the top step of the little flight of stairs, he fidgeted nervously before reaching up and knocking briskly.

      The door opened and Mary stood before him. His breath caught. Divested of her heavy winter coat, she was wearing a lilac-coloured twin-set and a pretty knee-length skirt. The light from the hall and from her, too, dazzled him.

      Fumbling, he brought out the bag from where he’d been hiding it under his coat. ‘I found this,’ he said jerkily.

      ‘It’s my mother’s! Thank you.’

      The women had discovered the loss of the handbag once they’d arrived home. Fortunately, Mary had her own front-door key and could let them in. Adam had offered to go and look for it, after searching the car and not finding it, but Lucy had said no, not to worry. She felt far too unwell for any fuss, and the bag would turn up somehow. People round here were honest men and women.

      ‘Won’t you come in?’ Mary asked now. ‘I expect Mother will want to thank you herself.’

      Accepting her invitation without hesitation, Ben followed her through to the drawing room. ‘Is your mother all right? I mean, has she suffered any ill-effects from the fall?’

      ‘She says she’s all right. With Mother, you’re never really sure.’

      When Mary turned to smile at him, Ben felt foolish; like a shy young boy on his first date instead of a forty-year-old man of the world.

      For what seemed the longest moment, she continued to gaze on him, her quiet smile reaching deep into his senses. Suddenly the smile fell away and, slowing her step, she confided in him.

      ‘The truth is, since she fell in the churchyard, she hasn’t seemed well at all,’ she whispered. ‘I’m worried about her.’ Before she inched open the door, she confessed, ‘I wanted to call Dr Nolan, but she won’t hear of it.’ A sigh escaped her lips. ‘She’s so independent – and stubborn like you wouldn’t believe. But I’m half tempted to call the doctor anyway.’

      ‘There’s no use you whispering, my girl!’ Lucy called out from the inner room. ‘I can hear every word, and there’ll be no doctor coming into this house!’

      On entering the room, Mary was told in no uncertain terms, ‘If I needed a doctor – which I don’t – there is only one I would agree to seeing, and he’s living out his retirement in Liverpool. So we’ll have no more talk of doctors. Are you listening to me, Mary?’

      Reluctantly, the girl nodded. ‘Mr Morris found your bag in the churchyard. He’s brought it back. I thought you might want to thank him yourself.’

      ‘Mmm.’ Her reproachful gaze rested on her daughter for a second or two before switching to Ben. ‘I love my daughter dearly, but she will fuss.’

      ‘Only because she’s worried about you, I’m sure.’

      While he spoke, Ben was aware of how the room reflected Lucy’s personality. There was the solid furniture, reliable and stalwart, and then there was the colour and vibrancy in the curtains and the rugs. On following Mary into the room, he had felt her life all about him, in the lavish bright paintings on the walls, and the many figures, sculpted in china and pewter – some in the throes of embrace, others dancing, with arms in the air and feet atwirl.

      They reminded him of Lucy herself; mature in beauty, yet very much alive.

      ‘She’s no need to worry,’ Lucy snapped. ‘I’m fit as a fiddle, thank goodness – always have been.’ Her thoughts went back to her youth, to the time she’d gone astray, and the consequences that followed. Good times and bad, when life was lived to the full, when friends helped you through and nothing seemed to matter. And then there was Barney.

      Her heart grew sore at the thought of that wonderful man.

      Mentally shaking herself, she told Ben, ‘That’s two kindnesses you’ve shown me in one day. So thank you again, young man.’

      ‘It was the vicar who found it,’ Ben explained. ‘I simply offered to return it.’ He liked being called ‘young man’, though in truth, he was only about twelve years younger than Lucy, and indeed, had a grown-up daughter of his own. His feelings for Mary, however, were definitely not those of a father.

      When he turned to smile at Mary, Lucy was quick to see the spark between them. ‘I dare say that’s because you wanted to see my Mary again.’ Her face crinkled into that same mischievous smile he had seen at the churchyard. ‘Taken a liking to her, have you?’ When she gave a naughty wink, he couldn’t help but grin, despite his bashfulness.

      ‘Mother!’ Mary’s face went a bright shade of pink. ‘What a thing to say! Don’t embarrass Mr Morris. I’m sure he was thinking no such thing.’

      But Lucy took no notice. Addressing Ben, she put him on the spot. ‘Tell the truth and shame the devil, Mr Morris. You volunteered to return my bag because you hoped to catch a glimpse of Mary, isn’t that the truth?’

      Ben laughed out loud. ‘Do you always see through people so easily?’ It was strange, he thought, how easy he felt in her presence. ‘Yes, you’re right. I was hoping I might see her again.’

      ‘There! I knew it!’ Clapping her hands together with excitement, the older woman said triumphantly, ‘I knew he’d taken to you, Mary – didn’t I say so? And here you are – you haven’t even asked our guest if he’d like to join us for supper. Shame on you, my girl!’

      ‘Shame on you, Mother, for embarrassing us both like that.’ Even though she was elated by Ben’s admission that he had been hoping for a glimpse of her, Mary was so mortified she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Whatever would Ben think of her now? She hoped he would refuse the offer of supper and make some excuse to leave straight away.

      Lucy’s instincts were meanwhile telling her that here was a good man, a fine husband for her daughter, if he were free. She had little doubt but that these two could make a fine, happy life together. Yes! Should anything untoward happen to herself in the near future, Ben Morris was the very man to take good care of Mary, for he reminded her of Barney, in his smile and his manner.

      Lately, she had been feeling very low in spirits and health, and Mary’s future had come to concern her deeply. Although Ben must be twice her daughter’s age, and would have his own story to tell about his life and the reasons for his arrival in Salford, he seemed a kind and honourable man. She had already noted the hint of sadness in his eyes, and his beautiful artistic hands, not yet roughened by farm-work. It was time to find out more about him. She would start with the most important question.

      ‘Are you married?’

      ‘REALLY, MOTHER!’ Horrified, Mary sprang forward. ‘One minute you invite Mr Morgan to supper, and the next you’re quizzing him about his private life. I’m sure he won’t stay a minute longer than he has to – and who would blame him?’

      Over the past few years, there had been several young chaps who had shown an interest in her; to her dismay, Lucy had systematically