The Day of the Storm by Rosamunde Pilcher Page B

tired. Outside Mrs Kernow’s door Joss stopped the car, but left the engine running. I thanked him and said good night and began to open the door, but before I could do so he had reached across and stopped me. I turned to look at him.
    He said, “Tomorrow. Are you going to Boscarva?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’ll take you.”
    â€œI can go alone.”
    â€œYou don’t know where the house is, and it’s a long climb up the hill. I’ll pick you up in the car. About eleven?”
    Arguing with him was like arguing with a steamroller. And I was exhausted. I said, “All right.”
    He opened the door for me and pushed it open.
    â€œGood night, Rebecca.”
    â€œGood night.”
    â€œI’ll see you in the morning.”

5
    The wind did not drop during that night. But when I woke, the little window of my room at Mrs Kernow’s gave me sight of a square of pale blue traversed by ballooning white clouds travelling at some speed. It was very cold, but bravely I got up and dressed and went downstairs in search of Mrs Kernow. I found her outside in the little yard at the back of the house, pegging out her washing on a line. At first, battling with flailing sheets and towels, she didn’t see me, but when I appeared between a shirt and a modest lock-knit petticoat she gave a great start of surprise. Her own astonishment amused her, and she shook with shrill laughter, as though the two of us were a double act on the halls.
    â€œYou gave me some shock. I thought you were still asleep! Comfortable were you? That dratted wind’s still around the place, but the rain’s stopped, thank heaven. Want your breakfast do you?”
    â€œA cup of tea, perhaps.”
    I helped her peg out the rest of the washing and then she picked up her empty basket and led the way back indoors. I sat at the kitchen table and she boiled a kettle and began to fry bacon.
    â€œHave a good supper last night did you? Go to The Anchor? Tommy Williams keeps a good place there, always packed, winter and summer. I heard Joss bring you home. He’s a lovely boy. I missed him when he moved out. Still, I go down sometimes to his new place, clean it up a bit for him, bring his washing home and do it here. Sad, a young man like that on his own. All wrong somehow, not having someone to take care of him.”
    â€œI should think Joss could take care of himself.”
    â€œIt’s not right a man doing woman’s work.” Mrs Kernow obviously did not believe in Women’s Lib. “Besides, he’s busy enough working for Mr Bayliss.”
    â€œDo you know Mr Bayliss?”
    â€œEveryone knows he. Lived here nearly fifty years now. One of the old ones, he is. And some lovely painter he was before he took ill. Used to have an exhibition every year, and all sorts used to come down from London, famous people, everybody. ’Course, lately we don’t see so much of him. He can’t walk up and down the hill like he used to, and it’s a bit of a business Pettifer getting that great car down these narrow lanes. Besides, in the summer, you can’t move for traffic and visitors. The place is teeming with them. Sometimes you’d think half the population of the country is jammed into this little town.”
    She flipped the bacon on to a warm plate and set it in front of me. “There now, eat that up before it gets cold.”
    I said, “Mrs Kernow, Mr Bayliss is my grandfather.”
    She stared at me, frowning. “Your grandfather?” Then, “Whose child are you?”
    â€œLisa’s.”
    â€œLisa’s child.” She reached for a chair and slowly sat down upon it. I saw that I had shocked her. “Does Joss know?”
    It seemed irrelevant. “Yes, I told him last night.”
    â€œShe was a lovely little girl.” She stared into my face. “I can see her in you … except that she was so dark and you’re fair. We missed