A Greater World by Clare Flynn Page B

of Winterbourne's sad eyes and knew exactly how his loss and grief felt. He carried a burden he feared to share with others. Just as she did. Her stomach made a little leap. How he could want her once he found out what Dawson had done to her? Michael's words twisted in her like a knife: 'When you've heard what I have to tell you, you may decide you don't want to see me again' . Killing his brother was an accident. She could not hold him to account for that. But if he were to find out what had happened to her, would he want to see her again? Just as her sister had assumed fault on her part, so might he? An unmarried, older sister leading her brother-in-law astray?
    She gave a little involuntary cry and Peggy Little patted her on the shoulder .
    'There, there, my lamb, he's at peace now. He's with your Ma - he often talked of her you know.'
    Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. The organ reached a crescendo, the melancholy notes reverberating around the almost empty church. She turned and saw the clergyman approaching, followed by a short man, in his late fifties, who took up a place in a pew across the aisle. Mr Kidd, she presumed.
    The service was short, with a brief impersonal eulogy by the clergyman, who had evidently never met William Morton. They made their way in a bleak procession into the adjoining graveyard, Mr Kidd a few paces behind the rest of the party. As the coffin was lowered, she placed on top the picture of her mother that had been among her father's few possessions and a flower she had plucked in the churchyard. Then she stood in the warm sunlight looking into the newly-dug cavity, before throwing in her handful of earth. She heard the quiet thuds as the Littles and Kidd did likewise and the priest droned his words of final ceremony.
    When it was over Mrs Little led her away from the graveside. The man she presumed to be Kidd turned to her and spoke in a voice that sounded as though it had been dried hoarse by the Australian sun. His face was like tanned leather and covered in fine wrinkles, testament to an outdoor life. He held his hat in his hands, exposing a head covered with cropped, steel-grey hair. His legs were slightly bowed, as though he spent more time in the saddle than on his feet. He looked uncomfortable in his ill-fitting dark suit. Elizabeth wondered if it had been borrowed for the occasion. He didn't look like a wealthy man. Her father must have got it wrong.
    'Miss Morton? Sorry about your father.'
    'Thank you. You must be Mr Kidd?'
    She held out her hand to him as Mrs Little interjected. 'I'm sorry Elizabeth, love; I should have done the introductions. This is your late father's friend, Mr Jack Kidd. Now you'll be coming back to the house, Mr Kidd, won't you, for a nice cup of tea and some light refreshments? It's all prepared - our Molly's been getting it ready while we're here.'
    They walked the few streets back to the boarding house in silence, Elizabeth rehearsing in her head what to say to Kidd. She had never had to do anything like this before: find a way to tell a stranger that she could not accept his marriage proposal.
    When they were all supplied with tea and a selection of sandwiches, she whispered to Peggy that she would like a few minutes alone with Mr Kidd.
    'That's fine, my dear - but you won't get much out of him you know. Miserable old codger if you'll pardon my language.'
    She nudged her husband and ushered him from the room, leaving Elizabeth alone to face her would-be suitor.
    She took a deep breath, thankful that her father had not shared his matchmaking plans with his landlady.
    'Mr Kidd, I understand you have paid for the funeral. I'm very grateful to you for doing that and for being a friend to my father. You have been very kind. I will repay you in full - but I'd be grateful if you would grant me some time. I must find employment - I hope to work as a music teacher but finding the right...'
    He interrupted the rapid flow of her words, raising a hand in front of