‘Then go away, Mrs Manone,’ Dougie said. ‘Go away an’ do what I’ve done.’
‘And what is that, Mr Giffard?’
‘Dig in, lass’ he told her. ‘Dig in.’
* * *
When she reached the shelter of Garscadden wood she stopped running, running from where her father might lie, crashing through fern and bracken as if she feared that he might reach out of the earth and catch her still.
Only when she had crossed the back road and entered the shelter of the trees did she finally slacken her frantic pace. Boiling hot, dripping with perspiration, her dress clinging to her skin, she was tormented now by an irrational fear that when she arrived at the top of the hill and looked down she would find that they had gone too; Babs, the children, Mammy vanished as if they had never been. But they were not gone, had not vanished. They were precisely where she had left them, picnicking on the grass under the shade of the oak tree.
Relief, vast and exhausting, flooded over Polly. She slumped shakily against the trunk of an elm and, screened by its leaves, looked down at the car, at the little girls, at Angus, like a monkey, swinging from a branch, at Babs scowling as she peeled an orange; at Mammy, Mammy with April on her lap, woman and child both drowsy, both hovering on the verge of sleep.
As she knelt in the grass at the base of the elm tree, looking down, Polly knew that a part of her life had drawn to a close. She was no longer Dominic’s wife, no longer Tony’s lover, no longer a mother to Stuart and Ishbel. She had allowed herself to be replaced. For that she had only herself to blame.
Dig in, Giffard had told her. Dig in.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps that was the only way to survive and she had better heed his advice. She had asked too much of life, more than her mother had ever had or ever wanted, and she had paid dearly for her greed; yet in the lengthening shadows of that hot August afternoon something quite unexpected happened, something so strange that it took Polly’s breath away: there, on the very eve of war, she felt at peace with herself at last.
And calmly, almost serenely, she walked the rest of the way downhill to join her family and take tea in the shadow of the oak.
By the same author
THE SPOILED EARTH
THE HIRING FAIR
THE DARK PASTURE
THE DEEP WELL AT NOON
THE BLUE EVENING GONE
THE GATES OF MIDNIGHT
TREASURES ON EARTH
CREATURE COMFORTS
HEARTS OF GOLD
THE GOOD PROVIDER
THE ASKING PRICE
THE WISE CHILD
THE WELCOME LIGHT
A LANTERN FOR THE DARK
SHADOWS ON THE SHORE
THE PENNY WEDDING
THE MARRYING KIND
THE WORKHOUSE GIRL
PRIZED POSSESSIONS
THE PIPER’S TUNE
THE ISLAND WIFE
THE WIND FROM THE HILLS
THE STRAWBERRY SEASON
As Caroline Crosby
THE HALDANES
SISTERS THREE. Copyright © 2001 by Jessica Stirling. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
ISBN 0-312-30523-0
First published in Great Britain by Hodder and Stoughton A division of Hodder Headline
First U.S. Edition: December 2002
eISBN 9781466869158
First eBook edition: March 2014
Sisters Three Page 43
