Free Burnt Norton by Caroline Sandon Page A

ease.
    That night she slept in the room at the top of the house. It was not so different from her room at the Charter House, and she fell into a deep sleep. When she awoke the next morning, she rose on one elbow and looked around her. The early sunlight made patterns on the wooden floor, and on top of the washstand a small china mug was filled with spring flowers. It was an attractive room, and with a little imagination she could make it her own. She listened to the silent house, and painfully she thought of Will, the two of them in her own bedroom, whispering before the rest of the household erupted with the day’s activity.
    She got out of bed and looked through the window. Crocuses burst through the ground, another reminder of home. Once again Molly longed for her mother and for Will, and she hungered to be outside.
    She washed her face and hands in the blue and white china basin, smoothed her hair and glanced in the mirror. Her hazel eyes stared back at her. Molly had never liked the colour; she wished they were blue.
    She straightened the collar of her sprigged cotton dress. It was faded and a little too short, but it was her second-best dress, and until she could make another, it would have to do. She went down the back stairs and into the garden. It smelt of cut spring grass, reminding her of the garden at Warwick Castle.
    A brick archway led to a pathway between two raised borders. She followed the path, picked a narcissus and held it to her nose. ‘The Romans brought them here,’ her mother had told her, ‘nigh-on thirteen hundred years ago.’
    Through two pillars she entered a large untended garden. Wild flowers grew in the long grasses, and amongst the trees, two pools glittered in the early morning light. In the smaller pool there was a statue. She recognized it as Pan. She sat down on a bench and leant forward. Pan’s reflection moved across the water towards her. She was lost in thought when she heard footsteps. Thomas was at the entrance to the garden. He looked her way and for a long moment they didn’t speak.
    ‘May I join you, Miss Johnson? I am also an early riser.’
    ‘I have to start work soon,’ she said, finding her voice, ‘but, yes, for a little while. I would like that.’
    He sat on the bench beside her, and when he moved, his leg brushed against hers.
    ‘Do you know about this flower?’ he asked, looking at the wilting stem in her lap.
    ‘I do. I am not well schooled, but my mother has a story for nearly every flower in England.’
    ‘That means,’ he said, ‘you will be able to tell me a story every day of the year.’ He looked at Molly intently and she felt her cheeks burn.
    She struggled to remember the myth. ‘This is a narcissus, and it’s named for a character in Greek mythology. Surely you have heard the story?’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Thomas said. ‘Go on.’
    ‘Narcissus was a hunter. He had flowing golden hair and great beauty, but he had no heart. On seeing him the nymph Echo fell madly in love.’ Molly paused, but Thomas nodded at her encouragingly. ‘Narcissus spurned Echo, and the poor nymph wasted away and died. This angered the gods and they decided to punish Narcissus. One day when he was tired of hunting, he drank from a clear pool of water. On seeing the beautiful face shimmering in the water below, he immediately fell in love, little realizing the reflection was his own. Like Echo, he too faded away, echoing the manner of her death. Aphrodite took pity on him and made him into this golden flower.’ As she looked up, their eyes met and he smiled, and though he would smile at her many times, this was the one she never forgot. ‘My mother is very wise, Master Thomas. She may not have had a proper education, but she knows more about life than anyone I know.’
    ‘Molly,’ he said. Her name sounded so pretty on his lips. ‘That is the most enchanting name. May I call you by your first name? Miss Johnson is too formal, now that I know that you love