Free The Hamiltons of Ballydown by Anne Doughty Page A

done. The house was large and full of good furniture, books and family mementoes. She had plenty to do to keep it in order, for she regularly entertained visiting Friends who came to minister, or to report to their Monthly Meeting.
    As she thought of walking up the hill to see Elizabeth, she remembered John’s parting words.
    ‘Da said to tell you it had thawed a bit and you’d be all right if you kept to the middle of the road,’ Rose began. ‘It’ll still be solid ice at the sides and you’re to take good care and walk down the hill with your bicycles … and probably up again as well. Sam says the main road should stay open withthe road engines moving. They’re not bothered by the snow till it gets quite deep.’
    ‘Don’t worry, Ma,’ said Hannah reassuringly. ‘We’re out early today. We’ll be home well before dark.’
    Rose was even more grateful when they left. She poured the last of the tea and sat by the fire to drink it and collect her thoughts, but her thoughts did not want to be collected. She went and took her headache powder, put together a basket with her sewing things and a pot of the new damson for Elizabeth and set about clearing the breakfast table.
    By the time she’d done that and even before she’d washed up, she had to sit down again, she was feeling so shaky and shivery. She hoped she wasn’t starting a cold. Jamie was coming home on Saturday afternoon and would be staying over till Sunday, the first time in five weeks he’d been to see them. She missed Jamie. The last thing she wanted was to be sniffing and blowing and red in the nose when he came so seldom and had so much news to tell them.
    She sat by the fire gathering her energy to wash the dishes, make up the fire and leave all tidy. An hour later, she woke with a start, amazed she should have fallen asleep. Her cheeks were burning and her head still throbbed though she was sure she’d taken the headache powder.
    ‘Oh dear,’ she said aloud. ‘I think I
am
getting the cold. I can’t go to Elizabeth like this.’
    She walked to the window and looked out. Large, heavy flakes were falling from a uniformly leaden sky. Not a great day to be out at Millbrook. The sky had been clear when she’d heard John and Hugh go past in the brougham, but it certainly wasn’t turning into a very good day for inspecting the new roof. They’d probably have to content themselves checking out the looms instead.
    It was two months now since they’d set going again the old looms they’d modified themselves. The production figures would tell them whether they should modify the rest, or whether the only way was to install something more up-to-date. It was a big decision, John said. An awful lot of money was involved.
    She moved round the kitchen feeling slightly dazed, trying to decide what to cook for the evening. John and Hugh would have something to eat at Millbrook, but it would be a long, cold day for them, even if they did try to get back with the last of the light.
    She went out into the dairy, always cool in summer, now full of an icy chill. She saw her breath stream around her as she filled a glass of water from the tap. She gulped it down and felt sweat break on her body as if she’d gone out into the blazing sun. She gripped the solid edge of the Belfast sink and closed her eyes. She was forty-three now and her monthly bleeding had stopped. Was this the changeher mother had told her about, the sweats that came unexpectedly by day and by night, bad enough at their worst to soak a night gown?
    She staggered back to her chair by the stove, closed her eyes and prayed that the throbbing in her head would go away.
     
    Even as she lit the sitting-room fire after breakfast, to have it warm and welcoming when Rose arrived, it occurred to Elizabeth that the hill might prove to be too slippery. When it began to snow and showed no signs of stopping she sighed, looked around the empty room and told herself Rose was being sensible. There would be