However, tonight, she was less angry with Patrick than she was with herself: for the stirring inside her when he’d taken her in his arms.

Chapter Twenty

Jenny Colman went through her usual morning routine. Whilst she ran the water for her bath, she made herself a strong cup of tea and poured her breakfast cereal into a bowl. After her bath, she sat in her dressing gown and ate her cereal. She stared out of the small kitchen window at the thick snow that had fallen last night and covered everything.

She went to her wardrobe and took out one of the three dresses she wore in rotation to go to work. She called them her ‘uniform’ and every January she went to Norwich on the bus to the sales and replaced them. She applied her make-up, then sprayed a little ‘Blue Grass’ onto her neck and wrists. Outside Jenny heard the footsteps of the postman coming up the little path to her front door.

‘More bills,’ she groaned, remembering as a child when the sound of the postman’s footsteps had been exciting, especially on birthdays or Christmas. But now the postman just meant someone else wanting money.

The two envelopes plopped through the letter box and Jenny went to pick them up from the doormat. One was a circular for a local plumbing company, and the other . . .

Jenny studied the thick cream vellum envelope with her name typed neatly on the front. She saw it had a London postmark. She got her glasses, went into the lounge and sat down to open it, wondering who on earth could be writing to her from London.

She read the address at the top. It was from a firm of solicitors. She read through the letter twice, just to make sure she hadn’t got it wrong.

When she had finished, she took off her glasses and stared into space.

A small bequest . . .

No. She mustn’t get her hopes up. She read the letter again. The solicitor wanted her to go to London to see him.

She’d never been to London in her life. How would she get to the station? And then, when she got there, how would she know where to go?

Perhaps she would ask Maddy to come with her, or at least take her to Norwich and put her on the train.

Jenny tucked the envelope carefully in her handbag. She would ask Mr Jones when would be the best day, then organise for one of the girls in the bursar’s office to come and fill in for her.

Then she would make the call.

As she put on her fleece-lined boots and left the bungalow, her footsteps careful in the slush on the pavements, Jenny smiled sadly.

Dear Hugh. Even if it was only a small memento, it was lovely of him to think of her.

When Jenny arrived in her small reception area, Mr Jones’s door was open. He was reading the local paper and also had copies of The Times and the Telegraph on his desk.