Free Where Seagulls Soar by Janet Woods

to think about
that. She didn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse over her family’s demise, even if it wasn’t as Christian an attitude as David would expect from her. She had flatly refused to
take her mother in and personally care for her. Now David was talking about installing her mother with a carer, in a church-owned cottage over at Southwell. Tilda wished he’d leave well
alone.
    Only her eldest brother was left behind. Leonard lived in Poole with his wife and two children, where he worked on a paddle steamer. Her eldest brother had changed since she’d last seen
him. He’d become more confident and he’d smiled at her when she’d greeted him, something she’d never seen him do before.
    Grace tugged at her skirt. ‘Can we visit Aunt Joanna and Toby, Mama?’
    ‘The house is empty now, my angel. But when we’ve made this place our home, we’ll go and look inside Joanna’s cottage and tidy it up, in case she comes to visit.’
Tilda was reluctant, though. Now she was back on the island the memories of her abuse had become sharper, and more painful – something she hadn’t expected.
    She suspected Joanna’s cottage would have been left as it was when Brian Rushmore had been arrested. Knowing how her brother had lived, it was probably filthy. But the islanders had always
been honest with their neighbours, so she had no doubt that the contents would have remained untouched.
    She stroked the child’s silky hair. ‘Just look at the big garden we’ve got for you to play in, Grace. And you can have a little patch of your own to grow things in, though
you’ll be going to school during the day.’ Her hands went to her hips as she surveyed the vegetable patch. ‘That’s going to take some digging over to prepare for a winter
crop, I can tell you.’
    ‘I’m sure we can manage without you growing our food,’ David said from the doorway.
    She turned to him with a smile. ‘You’ll never take the island girl out of me. I’m not too proud to get my hands dirty, and it won’t hurt Grace to learn how to use the
soil to her advantage, since you never know when your fortunes are going to change. Look what has happened to poor Joanna. Best to have something put aside for a rainy day, even if it’s only
the skill to survive.’
    David nodded. ‘You’d better find me a hoe then. At least I can lend some muscle to the enterprise. From what I can observe, the church here doesn’t have much of a congregation,
so digging will keep me gainfully employed.’
    ‘You can build me a chicken coop if you’ve a mind to.’
    He chuckled. ‘I rather thought you might sleep in the house with Grace and myself.’
    She laughed and threw a pillow at him. ‘Don’t give me any cheek, David Lind. Why are you home so early?’
    ‘A letter came from that greeting-card company you sell your work to.’
    The letter contained a bank draft, and there was a request for some more designs. Tilda beamed her husband a smile as she handed the letter to him.
    He gazed at her, his eyes full of pride because her gift for painting was finally bearing fruit. ‘Does this mean I can hire an architect to build the chicken coop?’
    ‘Certainly not. You’re quite capable of doing it.’
    ‘As long as you understand that I’m not the carpenter Jesus was.’
    ‘The hens won’t mind what it looks like as long as they’re warm and dry in the winter and have some clean straw to lay their eggs in.’
    ‘Hmm.’ David’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Perhaps I should build them a little church with a Norman tower, and a bell they can ring when they’ve laid an egg.’
    ‘They kick up enough fuss without a bell,’ she called after him as he walked away.
    Because they had a baby and luggage to handle, and she didn’t want to change trains, Joanna decided to book a passage on a coastal boat. There was a brisk wind to push
them along and, although Mrs Bates looked a little pale from time to time, Joanna found the voyage along the coast