Always And Forever Read Free

same for two people as one.’ She told them how much and added, ‘Two breakfasts, of course, and if you would like tea?’
    They glanced at each other. ‘Thank you. Would you serve us a light supper later?’
    â€˜Certainly. If you would fetch your cases? The car can go into the barn at the side of the house.’
    Amabel gave them a good tea, and while they went for a short walk, she got supper—salmon fish cakes, of tinned salmon, of course, potatoes whipped to a satiny smoothness, and peas from the garden. She popped an egg custard into the oven by way of afters and was rewarded by their genteel thanks.
    She ate her own supper in the kitchen, took them a pot of tea and wished them goodnight. In the morning she gave them boiled eggs, toast and marmalade and a pot of coffee, and all with a generous hand.
    She hadn’t made much money, but it had been nice to see their elderly faces light up. And they had left her a tip, discreetly put on one of the bedside tables. As for the bedroom, they had left it so neat it was hard to see that anyone had been in it.
    She added the money to the tea caddy and decided that tomorrow she would go to the village and pay it into the post office account, stock up on groceries and get meat from the butcher’s van which called twice a week at the village.
    It was a lovely morning again, and her spirits rose despite her disappointment at her mother’s delayed return home. She wasn’t doing too badly with bed and breakfast, and she was adding steadily to their savings. There were the winter months to think of, of course, but she might be able to get a part-time job once her mother was home.
    She went into the garden to pick peas, singing cheerfully and slightly off key.
    Nobody came that day, and the following day only a solitary woman on a walking holiday came in the early evening; she went straight to bed after a pot of tea and left the next morning after an early breakfast.
    After she had gone, Amabel discovered that she had taken the towels with her.
    Two disappointing days, reflected Amabel. I wonder what will happen tomorrow?
    She was up early again, for there was no point in lying in bed when it was daylight soon after five o’clock. She breakfasted, tidied the house, did a pile of ironing before the day got too hot, and then wandered out to the bench in the orchard. It was far too early for any likely person to want a room, and she would hear if a car stopped in the lane.
    But of course one didn’t hear a Rolls Royce, for it made almost no sound.
    Dr Fforde got out and stood looking at the house. It was a pleasant place, somewhat in need of small repairs and a lick of paint, but its small windows shone and the brass knocker on its solid front door was burnished to a dazzling brightness. He trod round the side of the house, past the barn, and saw Amabel sitting between Cyril and Oscar. Since she was a girl who couldn’t abide being idle, she was shelling peas.
    He stood watching her for a moment, wondering why he had wanted to see her again. True, she had interested him, so small, plain and pot valiant, and so obviously terrified of the storm—and very much at the mercy of undesirable characters who might choose to call. Surely she had an aunt or cousin who could come and stay with her?
    It was none of his business, of course, but it had seemed a good idea to call and see her since he was on his way to Glastonbury.
    He stepped onto the rough gravel of the yard so that she looked up.
    She got to her feet, and her smile left him in no doubt that she was glad to see him.
    He said easily, ‘Good morning. I’m on my way to Glastonbury. Have you quite recovered from the storm?’
    â€˜Oh, yes.’ She added honestly, ‘But I was frightened, you know. I was so very glad when you and your mother came.’
    She collected up the colander of peas and came towards him. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’
    â€˜Yes,