Part 11 (1/2)
”Was it damaged?”
”I only saw the back.”
”Then take a look at the front, Sloan, somehow. I don't care how.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Bill, will you do something for me?”
Bill Thorpe throttled back the tractor to silence point and started to climb down from his high seat. ”Not something.” He grinned. ”Anything.”
In spite of all that had happened, Henrietta smiled.
”Changed your mind about coming to the farm to sleep?” asked Bill. ”Mother'll be pleased. She's been worried about you down here on your own these last two nights.”
”No, Bill, it's not that.” Henrietta pulled her coat round her shoulders. ”I'm not leaving Boundary Cottage even for one night.”
”It was just that...”
”I feel it's the only link I've got now with things like they used to be.”
”I expect you're bound to feel like that for a bit,” he said awkwardly. ”I daresay it'll wear off after a while.”
”No, it won't...”
”I see.”
She shook her head. ”No, you don't, Bill. But-it's difficult to explain-but the cottage and the things in it are the only things that seem real to me somehow.”
”I'm real,” said Bill Thorpe. And indeed he looked it, foursquare against the spring sky.
”I know you are. It's not that.”
”Well, what is it, then?”
She s.h.i.+vered. ”I feel I need to actually see the things I know there. Otherwise...”
”Otherwise what?”
”Otherwise,” she said soberly, ”I think I shall go out of my mind.”
”Here,” protested Bill. 'Take it easy. No one can make you leave if you don't want to.”
”Can't they just!” retorted Henrietta. ”That's what you think, Bill.”
”You're a protected tenant,” insisted Bill firmly. ”No one can make you leave. I'll see to that. Besides, Mr. Hibbs would never turn you out. He's not that sort of man.”
”I don't think he would either,” said Henrietta slowly. ”He's always been very kind.” She looked at Bill and opened her eyes wide. ”He's always been very kind.”
”Yes, yes,” said Thorpe impatiently. ”I know. I think you're worrying about nothing.”
”I'm not.” She paused, then ”Bill...”
”Yes?”
”I've got something to tell you.” She swallowed twice in quick succession. ”You're not going to like it.”
”Try me,” he said evenly.
”The police say Grace Jenkins wasn't my mother.” Now it was out she felt better. ”And,” she added defiantly, ”I don't know who was.”
In the event his reaction was surprising.
He kissed her.
And then: ”You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that.”
Henrietta looked up at him in astonishment-he was half a head taller than she was-and said, ”Why?”
”I thought it was me.”
”You thought what was you?”
”The reason why your mother wouldn't let us get married.”
”She wasn't my mother,” said Henrietta automatically.
”Exactly.” Bill Thorpe was beaming all over his face.
”I don't see what that's got to do with us not getting married.”
”Don't you?”
”No.”
”Silly.” He looked down at her affectionately. ”We couldn't get married without her permission because you weren't twenty-one.”
”I know that...”
”She couldn't give it.”
”Why not?”
”Because she wasn't your mother. You've just said so.”
”I never thought of that,” said Henrietta wonderingly. ”I thought it was only because she wanted me to finish my three years at university.”