BooksBarbecue
Back Sisters of Gold
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. A Week’s Work in Birmingham
  5. I
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. II
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. III
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Forty-Three
  51. Forty-Four
  52. Forty-Five
  53. Forty-Six
  54. Forty-Seven
  55. Forty-Eight
  56. Forty-Nine
  57. Fifty
  58. Fifty-One
  59. Fifty-Two
  60. Fifty-Three
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. Further Reading
  63. About the Author
  64. By the Same Author

Annie frowned at her and lay down again. She was asleep before Margaret had even got into bed. When she did so, she lay with her mind in a tumult. Perhaps I should go home alone and see Father, she thought. But the idea of travelling back to the village to confront him, the fact that Charles Barber was still there, filled her with panic. He had at least tried to apologize . . . Suddenly her mind was flooded with all the good, tender memories of Charles: his vulnerability when he first arrived, the hours they had spent together walking, talking and at last daring to exchange kisses. The way her thoughts had been filled with him, his personality and ideas, almost as if she was possessed – a feverish possession she had believed was love. Had it been? Love was a fever – or so the poets seemed to tell her. And then . . . The other Charles, the hateful, animal face of a man she could scarcely recognize . . . What was it she had done to bring that out in him – bring on one of these fits he talked about? Was she wicked in some part of herself, and had she turned him wicked also?

Her mind strayed helplessly back to that afternoon and the sweet feelings of being in the presence of Philip Tallis. Not fever – but a calm. A tender calm. She saw his eyes again as he had looked at her, and the way he had lingered in the room, seeming not to want to leave. And how she had not wanted him to, as if his being there completed things.

Oh, my Lord and Saviour, she prayed, amid this whirl of conflicting feelings, have mercy on my soul and let me walk ever in Thy ways.

As if to chime with their conversation, Uncle Eb told them jubilantly after the post had arrived the next morning, that a letter had arrived from the builder, estimating that they could take possession of the new house in Handsworth in early February.

‘February,’ Aunt Hatt said, lighting up with excitement. She was at her desk in the office. ‘Oh, Eb – how marvellous. We’ll have to buy a carriage as well!’

‘We shall,’ Eb said, pulling back his shoulders in a sober manner so that his tummy bulbed further out at the front. Margaret could almost see the appearance of a top hat on his head. Uncle Eb was becoming a man of substance in every way.

But there was another uneasy thought. February was only a few weeks away.

‘We’ll have to take our leave of you,’ she said, wanting to reassure her aunt and uncle that she and Annie were not to inflict themselves upon them for too much longer. ‘You’ve been so kind to us.’

Eb and Hatt exchanged looks.