Читать книгу At the End of the Day - Бетти Нилс - Страница 8

MR MITCHELL embraced his daughter warmly, took her bag and led her outside to where the car, an elderly Rover stood. ‘Your mother’s at home,’ he told her, ‘dishing up the fatted calf. It seems a long time since you were home, my dear.’

‘Four weeks, Father—Nigel had a weekend when I did and we went to his home, if you remember. I’m going to have ten days’ holiday in a couple of weeks, and he’ll come home for his weekend if you and Mother don’t mind.’

They had got into the car and her father was fiddling with his seat belt. ‘You know we love to have you. Madge ‘phoned to say she’d come over for the day and bring Harry with her.’

‘Oh, good, I haven’t seen him for ages. Has he any teeth yet?’

They exchanged small items of news as they drove out of the city and took the road to Stratford Bissett and the road along the Chalke Valley. It was almost dark by now and the car’s headlights shone on the hedges on either side of the road, presently they revealed a handful of cottages as they passed through a small village. Half a mile along the road Mr Mitchell turned the car in through an open gateway and stopped before his front door. The house was in darkness now, but Julia knew every inch of it; stone and flint with a low tiled roof and lattice windows and tall twisted chimneys and a solid door with a wide porch with seats on either side worn smooth by generations of use. She got out of the car and ran inside, down the flagstoned hall to the kitchen. Her mother was at the table, putting the finishing touches to supper and she looked up and smiled as Julia went in.

‘Darling, how lovely to see you. Is that the kitten your father was telling me about? He’ll be hungry, poor little scrap. We’ll shut the doors and he can have his supper with Gyp and Muffin and Maud. Take your jacket off, dear, supper’s just ready.’