Free A Summer Promise by Katie Flynn Page A

flapped it and the gander grabbed the hem whilst one of his many wives – or might some of them be his sons? – continued to advance, hissing like a sea of snakes and stabbing at the waterproof with vengeful orange beaks.
    Verity had stumbled towards the back door just as a large black dog emerged, blinking and yawning, from the depths of a big kennel in front of her. He gave her a look which was almost comical. ‘You can’t be afraid of a few geese,’ he seemed to be saying, and then, as the onslaught of the birds pushed her within a few feet of the back door, the dog had charged. There was a great deal of hissing and squawking, but the teacher had not waited to see who would win. She had thrown open the back door without even knocking and lurched into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. The noises outside had continued for perhaps half a minute and then she had heard the dog giving an imperative little bark. Well, he had saved her bacon all right, so she must pluck up her courage and let him in even if he was not normally allowed to invade the kitchen. She had opened the door a crack, then wider, and the dog had slid in, giving her a friendly grin as she closed the door behind him. His expression was so knowing that she felt it only polite to thank him for his intervention, and even as the words ‘Thank you
so
much; I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come to my rescue’ passed her lips the dog was licking her hand.
    Suddenly finding herself in the house without an invitation and chatting to the dog as though it was the master here, Verity had looked round wildly. She had heard from the villagers that Mrs Hebditch was very old and not able to get about as she used to, but she had obviously managed to escape from the kitchen. Verity was just wondering where to begin the search for her hostess when a voice spoke from behind her back. ‘If you’ll put yourself to the trouble of turning round and telling me what you’re doing in my kitchen, young woman, then I might just invite you to state your business.’
    Verity had turned very slowly, not knowing quite what to expect, and seen a little old woman leaning upon a black walking cane. Her hair was sparse, her skin was wrinkled, and judging from the clothing which hung on her she had once been very much bigger, but age had shrunk her until she was now about the same size, the teacher reflected, as her granddaughter. She wore little gold-rimmed glasses on her small fat nose, and at that precise moment her mouth was set in a rather unpleasant grin. It was pretty plain that the old woman was awaiting an apology.
    ‘Mrs Hebditch, I presume?’ Verity had said.
    The old woman had begun to laugh. ‘Dr Livingstone, I presume?’ she mimicked. ‘And you might be . . .’
    Talk about being at a disadvantage, Verity had said grimly to herself. She had held out her hand. ‘How do you do, Mrs Hebditch? I’m Madeleine’s teacher, Miss Parrott; I dare say she’s mentioned me. She’s a bright girl, quite a star, and I don’t mind telling you that I believe with some encouragement . . .’
    The old lady was staring at her with an expression she could not identify, but then Miss Parrott had remembered that she had entered the kitchen without an invitation, and though Yorkshire people are both friendly and generous she realised that her first action should have been to apologise and to explain her precipitate entry into a stranger’s house.
    ‘I’m so sorry . . . I’m afraid I was being pursued by your geese. I did not realise that the birds were so aggressive and when the big one actually grabbed my rain cape I simply threw the door open and came into your kitchen.’ Once more, she had held out her hand. ‘I know it was wrong, but I do trust you’ll forgive me.’
    She had waited for the old woman to take the offered hand, but Mrs Hebditch had suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth and spoken in a muffled tone from behind the barrier of