Gull Island

Gull Island Read Free Page A

Book: Gull Island Read Free
Author: Grace Thompson
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could afford to dress well if he chose. She forgot her recent alarms, her daydreams and her irritation at being interrupted and was filled with curiosity.
    ‘Live near here, do you?’ she asked as she followed him up from the now-chilly beach towards the old cottages. ‘I bet you live in that posh house beyond the beach with timber beams and dozens of chimneys.’
    ‘That place has been empty for years, although a relation of mine once owned it.’ He smiled and gestured towards the cottages. ‘These smaller places belong to my father and I stay here sometimes.’ He looked at her, his eyes still remarkably matching the colour of the sea moving gently behind him. ‘I have the makings of tea if you fancy a cup. You look as though you could do with warming up. No milk, I’m afraid.’
    She hesitated, wanting to go but half afraid. ‘Oh, I don’t think I could drink tea without milk, thanks all the same.’
    ‘Putting in extra sugar helps.’ His smile lit up his face, giving it an almost roguish look. ‘You don’t have to be afraid. I don’t bite or pounce on lovely young women.’
    She smiled back, intrigued by his almost piratical appearance and casual, easy manner. He was different from anyone else she had ever met. Thisadventure would be something to tell Bernard about when he came home – something to add to that other news.
    The cottage to which he led her was surprisingly neat inside. Built of yellowish stone with a pattern of red sandstone around the windows and doorways, there was a strong smell of dampness as she entered the storm porch but once inside the living room, a chintz-covered chair and a bowl of wild flowers gave the place a brightness and warmth. She stood for a moment, her head hardly moving but her large pale-blue eyes widening and absorbing the unexpectedly pleasant sight.
    The young man put a match to the fire and, leaving her to explore, busied himself with a paraffin stove and a tin kettle. While she looked in amazement at the long line of books on a stone shelf, which smelled of damp and showed signs of mildew, he made tea and put the tray on the floor in front of the spluttering fire.
    ‘My name is Luke. Who are you?’
    ‘Barbara. Barbara Jones but I think I’ll be changing it very soon.’ Did she imagine the slight frown that crossed his face? Was there a hint of disappointment at the news of her marrying? She silently laughed off the vanity and in her embarrassment at the way her thoughts had travelled, she blurted out, ‘Mam told me this morning I’m going to have a baby, see, and when Bernard knows he’ll marry me for sure. Then I’ll be Barbara Stock.’
    ‘What will you do, Barbara, if he – well, if you decide not to marry this Bernard?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ she gasped. The thought of Bernard letting her down simply hadn’t occurred to her. She stared at him. Suddenly all the fears and uncertainties flooded in and she was chilled as if by immersion in icy water. Her eyes widened and her teeth chattered. She crouched nearer to the warmth of the fire, not wanting to look at the serious-faced stranger. Why had she told him? He was staring at her when she eventually looked at him again, the frown on his face deepening.
    ‘Don’t let them make you give her away. She’s yours and you must keep her, watch her grow and she’ll fill every day with joy.’
    ‘She? You think it will be a girl? Funny, I hadn’t got round to wondering whether it will be a girl or a boy.’
    ‘It will be a girl and you must call her Rosita.’
    ‘There’s a fancy name for a Jones!’
    ‘Jones? Then you don’t think this Bernard will marry you?’ he asked softly.
    ‘Of course he will! I wasn’t thinking—’
    ‘But if he doesn’t, you won’t let them take the baby away and kill it, or give it to someone else to raise, will you? Please tell me you won’t.’
    ‘Bernard and I will be married. She, or he, will be ours.’
    ‘But if he doesn’t?’ he insisted urgently.
    ‘If

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