Читать книгу The Perfect Hero: The perfect summer read for Austen addicts! - Виктория Коннелли, Victoria Connelly - Страница 7

Prologue

Peggy Sullivan leant forward in an attempt to get the pillows behind her just right.

‘It’s my eyes I miss the most,’ she said to the young woman sitting by the side of the bed. ‘I wasn’t too bothered when my legs went. I was too tired to walk around much anyway. I didn’t even mind when my right ear went last month but I do miss my eyes.’

The young woman leant forward and patted her hand.

‘It’s so kind that you come and read to me, Kay,’ Peggy said.

‘It’s my pleasure.’

‘It can’t be easy for you, my dear. Coming here, I mean.’

Kay looked at Peggy for a moment before answering. ‘It wasn’t at first. I kept seeing Mum everywhere – sitting in the conservatory gazing out at the gardens, or serving everyone tea in the sitting room.’

‘We all miss her so much. She always loved taking care of everybody – just like you do.’

Kay nodded. ‘She used to call me “Little Mother” when I was growing up.’

Peggy smiled sadly and then looked at Kay with bemusement in her eyes. ‘How you came to work at Barnum and Mason, I’ll never understand.’

‘It was the first job I was offered,’ Kay said with a shrug. ‘I took it thinking I’d only be there a little while. I was hoping—’

‘Someone would discover your paintings,’ Peggy interrupted.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, they’re taking their time, I must say.’

They were silent for a moment and Kay looked out of Peggy’s window. Her bedroom was on the ground floor of The Pines and overlooked the communal garden which was shivering under a layer of early snow. The poor cyclamen were doing their best to survive but one more fall of snow and they’d be buried alive, Kay thought.

Buried. The word sent a shiver through her. It had only been a month since her mother had been buried in the local churchyard after a brief but devastating illness. She’d been sixty-seven – not old by today’s standards – and Kay missed her more than she could say. Perhaps that was why she was spending time with Peggy. She’d met her whilst visiting her mother and the two of them had clicked. Both had a profound love of the novels of Jane Austen and when Kay had discovered that Peggy was blind – a fact that she’d kept marvellously hidden – Kay had offered to read to her.

Peggy never seemed to have any visitors and Kay couldn’t quite give up visiting The Pines.

‘I do wish I could see your paintings,’ Peggy suddenly said.

‘I do too, Peggy.’

‘Tell me about your new ones.’

‘Well, I’ve only got one new one. I’m afraid work’s been a bit hectic and—’

‘That ratbag Roger still working you late?’

Kay grinned.

‘I remember him when he was a lad. I knew his father. Lived in my road. Bullies – both of them. You mustn’t let him push you around, Kay.’

‘I don’t.’

Peggy nodded. ‘Because I’ll have words with him if he’s bullying you. I’ve got one of them portable phone jobbies. It’ll only take one call.’

‘It’s all right. There’s no need to call him.’

Peggy shifted forward and Kay got up to rearrange her pillows.

‘So, tell me about your picture.’

Kay’s eyes took on a wistful look as she thought about her latest painting.

‘Well, you know the last chapter of Persuasion we read together? That moment when Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth see each other for the first time since he went away?’

‘I love that scene!’ Peggy said, her face glowing with the pleasure of remembering it.

‘I chose that moment when Jane Austen writes “a thousand feelings rushed on Anne”.’

‘Wonderful!’ Peggy enthused.

‘And “a bow, a curtsey passed”.’

‘Yes, yes!’ Peggy said. ‘I can see it now. All those pent-up emotions they still have for each other. Oh, I wish I could see it!’

‘I’ve always wanted to capture that moment when their eyes meet,’ Kay said, tucking a strand of toffee-coloured hair behind her ear. ‘It’s so fleeting and yet so much happens in it.’

‘So which scene are you illustrating next?’

‘One of the Lyme Regis ones. I want to paint that wonderful seafront with the sweep of the Cobb. I only wish I could visit it.’

‘You’ve never been to Lyme?’

‘No,’ Kay said, her eyes taking on a dreamy look again. ‘I’ve always imagined myself living by the sea one day and I think Lyme would be just the place to be.’

‘Then what are you doing in land-locked Hertfordshire?’ Peggy asked. ‘I mean, now that you don’t have any family ties.’

‘My job’s here. My house is here.’

‘Oh, rot!’ Peggy said. ‘I know it’s a terrible cliché but, if you don’t take charge of your life, nobody’s going to do it for you. Think of Anne Elliot and all those years she wasted.’

‘But I’ve got a mortgage to pay. I’m kind of stuck here.’

Peggy’s mouth narrowed. ‘I don’t like to hear such excuses. If you want to live near the sea then you should. It’s as simple as that.’

‘I wish it was,’ Kay said. ‘I really wish it was.’