Free September (1990) by Rosamunde Pilcher Page B

off to the nearest mental hospital. Edie's her next of kin. She's been visiting the poor creature every week. And now the doctors say that she's well enough to be discharged, but of course she can't live alone again. At least, not just yet."
    "Don't tell me Edie's going to have her?"
    "She says she has to. There's nobody else. And you know how kind Edie is . . . she's always had a great sense of family responsibility. Blood is thicker than water and all that nonsense."
    "And a great deal nastier," Archie commented drily. "Lottie Carstairs. I can't think of anything worse. When is all this going to happen?"
    Violet shrugged. "I don't know. Next month maybe. Or August."
    Virginia was horrified. "She's surely not going to live with Edie?"
    "Let's hope not. Let's hope it's just a temporary measure."
    "And where on earth will Edie put her? She's only got two rooms in that little cottage of hers."
    "I didn't ask."
    "When did she tell you this?"
    "This morning. When she was Hoovering my dining - room carpet. I thought she was looking a bit down in the mouth, so I asked her what was the matter. I heard all about it over a cup of coffee."
    "Oh, poor Edie. I can't bear it for her. . . ."
    Archie said, "Edie is a saint."
    "She certainly is." Violet finished her tea, glanced at her watch, and began to gather her belongings. Her large handbag, her papers, her spectacles. "That was very nice, dear. Most refreshing. And now I must take myself home."
    "Me too," said Archie. "Back to Croy to drink more tea with the Americans."
    "You'll be awash. Who have you got this week?"
    "No idea. Just hope they're not too elderly. Last week I thought one old boy was going to die of angina right there, in the middle of the soup. Mercifully, however, he survived."
    "It's such a responsibility."
    "Not really. The worst are the ones who've signed a pledge and take no drink. Bible Belt Baptists. Orange juice makes for sticky conversation. Have you got your car, Vi, or do you want a lift home?"
    "I walked down, but I'd like a lift back up the hill."
    "I'll take you then."
    He too gathered together his papers and heaved himself to his feet. For an instant he paused and then, when certain of his balance, made his way towards them down the length of the thickly carpeted room. He limped only slightly, which was a miracle because his right leg, from a stump of thigh downwards, was made of aluminum.
    He had come to the meeting today straight from his garden and apologized for his attire, but nobody took much notice because this was the way he looked most of the time. Shapeless corduroy trousers, a checked shirt with a patched collar, and a threadbare tweed jacket that he called his gardening coat, though in truth no self-respecting gardener would be seen dead in it.
    Virginia pushed back her chair and stood up and Violet did the same, but much more slowly, matching her movements to Archie's painful gait. She was in no way impatient to be gone, but even if she were would never show it, for her feelings towards him were sympathetic and fiercely protective. She had, after all, known him all his life. Remembered him as a boy, as a wild young man, as a soldier. Always laughing, and an enthusiasm -almost a lust for life-that was as catching as the measles. She remembered him endlessly active. Playing tennis; dancing at the Regimental Ball, swinging his partners nearly off their feet; leading a line of guns up the hill behind Croy, his long legs covering the heather with an easy stride that left all the others behind.
    Then, he had been Archie Blair. Now, he was Lord Balmerino. The Lord and the Laird. Fine titles for a man thin as a stick, with a tin leg to boot. The blac k h air was now flecked with white, the skin of his face netted with lines, his dark eyes deep-set and shadowed by the jutting brows.
    He reached her side and smiled. "Ready, Vi?"
    "All set."
    "In that case, we'll go. . . ." And then, in mid-step, he stopped again. "Oh, God, I've just remembered. Virginia,