shrugged her shoulders and went in to kiss Fran good night. ‘Good night, my sweetheart.’
Fran lay on her side, snuggled up to the cuddliest teddy bear her grandmother had been able to find. Her long dark lashes fluttered as she began dropping asleep, one hand tucked under a rosy cheek. ‘Ni’, ni’.’
‘Time for your bath, Flick, you must be tired. Thanks for reading the story.’
Jimbo shrugged on his overcoat and gave Harriet a hug. She straightened his silk scarf and kissed his cheek.
‘Have a good time.’
‘I will. Be all right?’
‘Of course. I won’t wait up.’
Harriet stood at the door watching him start up the car and waved as he turned up Stocks Row. As she locked the door the thought crossed her mind, what on earth had Simone Paradise and Kate Pascoe got in common? Not a blind thing as far as she could see.
Harriet had decided to spend the evening while Jimbo was out, going over the accounts on the computer in the study. She’d just switched on and was checking through in her mind which aspect she would take a look at first when she heard the front door being unlocked.
‘Jimbo? Is that you? Hello-o-o?’
‘Only me, darling.’
‘Mother!’ Harriet went into the hall. ‘I didn’t expect you tonight.’
‘Thought I’d keep you company. Where are the boys?’
‘Scouts. Coffee or something stronger?’
‘Stronger. You’d better get one for yourself. You might need it.’
‘Why, what’s the matter?’
‘I need your advice.’
‘ My advice – since when?’
‘Since last night. I’ll sit down.’
‘Of course. Whisky?’
‘And water.’
They sat in the study, Harriet patiently waiting to hear what she was supposed to be advising about.
Sadie swirled the whisky glass round and round in her hand. She was elegantly dressed as always, her long slim legs in fine nylon tights and smart high-heeled shoes, her outfit a straight black skirt, silver-grey long-sleeved silk shirt, and a scarf loosely tied around her throat. Harriet admired her as she sat deep in thought sipping her whisky. ‘Well, I’m waiting?’
‘I’m thinking of getting married.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Like I said, I’m thinking of getting married.’
‘To whom?’
‘Craddock Fitch.’
Harriet was stunned. She couldn’t believe she’d heard correctly. ‘You? Marriage to Craddock Fitch? Are you pulling my leg?’
‘As if I would. He’s asked me and I’m almost ready to say yes.’
‘I see. Well, you did know him when he was a strip of a lad. I was aware you were seeing a lot of him, but marriage … Are you sure?’
‘Are you asking that as a fully mature adult or as a child of mine?’
‘Ah! At times like this the two are very mixed. It’s difficult to know which I am at the moment.’
‘Exactly. I don’t know which I am, either. Am I a grown woman and a grandmother – heaven help us! – or have I gone back to being a seventeen-year-old like I was when I first refused him. Maybe I’ve taken leave of my senses.’
‘Why did you refuse him?’
‘I’ve always been independent right from the cradle, and some sixth sense told me that being married to Craddock – well, Henry as he was then – would be suffocating. He would have expected complete loyalty, complete absorption in his business affairs, because it was obvious even then that he was going to be a businessman, and I baulked at the idea of being so completely taken over. I engineered a row and that was that. He hated the idea that anyone owned him, you see, so I deliberately said something, whatever it was I can’t remember exactly, to annoy him and he blew his top.’
‘And now?’
‘Now he’s different. He respects me, which he didn’t before. I can answer back without him freezing me out with his stony silences. We can discuss and argue and he listens to my opinion. And what’s more, I still find him fascinating. He’s not the chilly person he appears to be. Oh no! He wants to be a warm loving man,
Fran lay on her side, snuggled up to the cuddliest teddy bear her grandmother had been able to find. Her long dark lashes fluttered as she began dropping asleep, one hand tucked under a rosy cheek. ‘Ni’, ni’.’
‘Time for your bath, Flick, you must be tired. Thanks for reading the story.’
Jimbo shrugged on his overcoat and gave Harriet a hug. She straightened his silk scarf and kissed his cheek.
‘Have a good time.’
‘I will. Be all right?’
‘Of course. I won’t wait up.’
Harriet stood at the door watching him start up the car and waved as he turned up Stocks Row. As she locked the door the thought crossed her mind, what on earth had Simone Paradise and Kate Pascoe got in common? Not a blind thing as far as she could see.
Harriet had decided to spend the evening while Jimbo was out, going over the accounts on the computer in the study. She’d just switched on and was checking through in her mind which aspect she would take a look at first when she heard the front door being unlocked.
‘Jimbo? Is that you? Hello-o-o?’
‘Only me, darling.’
‘Mother!’ Harriet went into the hall. ‘I didn’t expect you tonight.’
‘Thought I’d keep you company. Where are the boys?’
‘Scouts. Coffee or something stronger?’
‘Stronger. You’d better get one for yourself. You might need it.’
‘Why, what’s the matter?’
‘I need your advice.’
‘ My advice – since when?’
‘Since last night. I’ll sit down.’
‘Of course. Whisky?’
‘And water.’
They sat in the study, Harriet patiently waiting to hear what she was supposed to be advising about.
Sadie swirled the whisky glass round and round in her hand. She was elegantly dressed as always, her long slim legs in fine nylon tights and smart high-heeled shoes, her outfit a straight black skirt, silver-grey long-sleeved silk shirt, and a scarf loosely tied around her throat. Harriet admired her as she sat deep in thought sipping her whisky. ‘Well, I’m waiting?’
‘I’m thinking of getting married.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Like I said, I’m thinking of getting married.’
‘To whom?’
‘Craddock Fitch.’
Harriet was stunned. She couldn’t believe she’d heard correctly. ‘You? Marriage to Craddock Fitch? Are you pulling my leg?’
‘As if I would. He’s asked me and I’m almost ready to say yes.’
‘I see. Well, you did know him when he was a strip of a lad. I was aware you were seeing a lot of him, but marriage … Are you sure?’
‘Are you asking that as a fully mature adult or as a child of mine?’
‘Ah! At times like this the two are very mixed. It’s difficult to know which I am at the moment.’
‘Exactly. I don’t know which I am, either. Am I a grown woman and a grandmother – heaven help us! – or have I gone back to being a seventeen-year-old like I was when I first refused him. Maybe I’ve taken leave of my senses.’
‘Why did you refuse him?’
‘I’ve always been independent right from the cradle, and some sixth sense told me that being married to Craddock – well, Henry as he was then – would be suffocating. He would have expected complete loyalty, complete absorption in his business affairs, because it was obvious even then that he was going to be a businessman, and I baulked at the idea of being so completely taken over. I engineered a row and that was that. He hated the idea that anyone owned him, you see, so I deliberately said something, whatever it was I can’t remember exactly, to annoy him and he blew his top.’
‘And now?’
‘Now he’s different. He respects me, which he didn’t before. I can answer back without him freezing me out with his stony silences. We can discuss and argue and he listens to my opinion. And what’s more, I still find him fascinating. He’s not the chilly person he appears to be. Oh no! He wants to be a warm loving man,
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