Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
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“I know what you mean, but the man who has opened a café in Harrogate called Hettys is a pastry chef from Switzerland.”
“Really?” Blackie stared at her, amazement apparent. “Ye are a fountain of information just like Sarah. But in a different way,” he thought to add.
Angela nodded. “I grew up in Harrogate, as I told you.” Rising, she took the empty bowls away, and over her shoulder she said, “Blackie, come and help yourself to the main course. Claudie and I prepared cutlets with new potatoes. There are green peas too.”
Blackie strode across to the sideboard, took the plate she was offering and gave her an appreciative look. “It’s quite a supper ye planned, Angela. Thank ye for inviting me.”
“I’m happy you’re here,” she murmured, looking up into his face, her eyes riveted on his.
“I’m happy too, so I am,” he murmured in a low voice, held by her eyes. His heart thudded once more.
Turning away with swiftness, Angela began to serve the food to him.
Twenty-One
After supper, Blackie let himself be led into the library by Angela.
The fire had been lit, lamps turned on, and Angela directed him to the sofa. She sat in a chair, and said swiftly, “Claudie is bringing us cups of tea. We can relax here and let our food digest.”
He nodded, leaned toward the fire and then swiveled his head as he spoke to her. “I do like a fire,” he admitted. “’Tis cooler now anyway.”
“There’s a bit of a chill in the air, I agree. I hope you enjoyed Claudie’s food.”
“The best,” he answered, with a small chuckle. “Never tasted rhubarb tart like that before. Her flavors are … unique.”
“She has a secret recipe. It was a pleasure to prepare supper for someone. It’s clear you enjoy your food.”
“I do, ’tis true. Perhaps because I often went hungry as a child.”
Angela nodded. “I guess it was a hard life in Ireland from what other Irish friends have told me about their early years. Hunger and poverty.”
“Sure and it was tough, and what food I could get was a preoccupation. I was lucky. I had good friends who were happy ter share what they had with me.”
“Where do you come from?”
“A little hamlet not far from Kerry. It doesn’t really even have a proper name. I was born there and left when I was thirteen.”
At this moment, Claudie entered the library carrying a tray, which she put down on the desk. “Shall I pour?” she asked, looking over at Angela.
“Oh no, that’s all right,” Angela responded genially. “I can do it.”
Claudie smiled at them both and left.
“How do you like your tea? With milk? Sugar?” Angela asked Blackie.
“Milk and sugar, please.”