“Nonsense.” Fen leaned forward in a rustle of cloth, putting a hand on her knee. “Of course they’re significant. It must be horribly difficult and disconcerting—and I know what you mean about wanting to find something to do. I do, except all I’m fit to do is marry somebody and I haven’t even done very well at that. Whereas you’re wonderfully capable and you have ideas. I think the shooting school is a marvellous plan. I shall be your first pupil and give a testimonial.” She squeezed Pat’s knee. Pat’s thigh tensed in instinctive response; she prayed Fen didn’t notice. “I am sure you’ll find your place once you decide what you want it to be. And I dare say that seems awfully daunting when you’ve always had a place and never had to think about it, but you aren’t in a rush, are you? You can take a few months to learn how not to live your old life, before you decide what the new one ought to look like. And once you’ve had some time to not be Pat who looks after her brothers, that might make space for Pat who’s going to do something else. Does that make sense?”

She was positively clutching Pat’s knee with her earnestness now, and Pat had to pause for a moment to take in the sensation, and the meaning of the words, and the fierce interest. “It makes the most sense I think I’ve ever heard,” she said at last. “Really, it does. I’m not fond of putting off decisions, but you’re exactly right.”

“Maybe you should decide not to do anything, then. Set yourself to actively not do things. Wake up in the morning and make a list of idlenesses, all of which must be strictly ignored before dinner-time.”

“I might have to do that,” Pat admitted. “Thank you, Fen. That really does help. You’re very acute, I think.”

Fen positively glowed. Her eyes were bright, her mouth was a perfect curve of satisfaction, her hand was warm on Pat’s knee, and if Jimmy Yoxall had appeared at that moment, Pat might have been tempted to shove him into the lake.

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX