Sweet Rosie by Iris Gower Page A

sofa, her arm in his. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your mother, Joe. I understand Mint was a remarkable woman.’
    Lloyd was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching them both. ‘Grandmother Mint is dead. Are you sad, Daddy?’
    ‘Yes, I am sad, Lloyd.’ He ruffled his son’s hair. ‘I’m sad that you will never meet her.’
    ‘Well, there’s really no need to be too sad about that,’ Lloyd said sagely. ‘We still have Granny Charlotte. She’s old but she will love us forever, she said so.’
    ‘I expect she will.’ Joe made a wry face at Charlotte. ‘And she’s not that old, you know.’
    ‘And my other grandmother will look down from the clouds like a bright star to keep us safe, won’t she?’
    Lloyd looked up, peering doubtfully through the window. The clouds were dark now, racing across the sky. Soon, the heavens would open and the rain would tumble down into the garden. Lloyd moved closer to the window and pressed his face against the glass. After a few moments, sure enough, the rain came.
    He sometimes wondered how he knew such things. He knew when the cuckoo was coming to put her baby in another bird’s nest. He knew when the squirrels were going to come out in search of food.
    ‘Why do I know things, Daddy?’ he asked.
    Joe did not need to ask what he meant; he answered as simply as he could.
    ‘Some of us are born with keen senses, son. We are tuned into nature in the way that some people have an ear for music.’
    ‘Doesn’t everyone have keen senses, then?’
    Joe shook his head. ‘No, not everyone. We are gifted and very fortunate people and we must be kind to those less fortunate than we are.’
    He turned to Llinos. ‘Lord, I sound so pompous!’ He caught her hand and kissed it. ‘Is that what fatherhood does to a young man, turn him into an old preacher before his time?’
    Later, when Lloyd and finally Charlotte had gone to bed, Llinos pressed herself into Joe’s arms, her head against his heart. She listened to it beating, regular, strong.
    After a moment, he held her away from him and crossed to the table to pour himself a glass of porter. Llinos frowned, wondering why he was not as eager as she was.
    ‘Maura?’ Joe said. ‘She died of the sickness?’
    Llinos nodded. ‘She just faded away like a flower, Watt said. He would not let me go near her because of the danger but Watt and Eynon saw that everything was taken care of. Maura just could not fight the sickness.’
    She moved closer to Joe. ‘I don’t know what to say to Watt. How can I comfort him when the woman he loved so much is gone from him forever?’
    ‘You can’t,’ Joe said. ‘He will have to come to terms with his loss in his own way. I’m going to bed,’ he said. ‘I’ve decided to sleep in the dressing room just for a while.’ He refilled his glass. ‘I’ll take this with me.’
    ‘But, Joe, why?’ Llinos could not believe what she was hearing. Joe had been away for so long and now he did not want to share her bed. ‘Something is wrong, isn’t it?’
    ‘We’ll talk in the morning,’ Joe said and then the door was closing behind him, shutting Llinos out of his life.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Lily had settled into a routine that she thought suited her very well. She did a bit of sewing for James Wesley and turned her hand to cooking meals more suitable for a man. She had learned to cook meat pies running with rich gravy and delicious stews made tasty with herbs from the garden. But now, somehow it all seemed too tame for her, she wanted more, she wanted James to notice her as a woman. She did not fail to see the irony of her thoughts: she was Lily, the girl who shied away from physical intimacy with a man, and here she was longing for attention. She must be losing her mind. Or was she falling in love?
    ‘Excuse me, miss.’ The maid stood in the doorway and Lily gestured for her to come forward. It never ceased to thrill her that she had a servant to do the menial work; no scrubbing floors or