Free Too Close to the Sun by Jess Foley Page A

occasions over the years. She’s my father’s elder sister.’
    ‘Well, I’m sure she loves your company.’
    ‘I hope so.’ This was so much small talk, she thought, chatter to fill space. ‘Billy said he saw you near the post office,’ she said. ‘You were riding through the village.’
    ‘Oh, I didn’t see him.’
    ‘No – you were going in the other direction.’
    ‘Ah.’ He gave a grave nod.
    The conversation was not easy, Grace thought. ‘How long are you home for?’ she asked.
    ‘At least seven weeks, as far as I know. There’s some refitting to the ship to be done. Then we sail for Jamaica again.’
    ‘So you have a nice long time at home.’
    ‘It will be pass in the blink of an eye. It always does.’
    Grace nodded. The period between their meetings had caused a certain shyness between them, she thought. But it was only natural, and they would get through it soon. They would have time now that he was back.
    A little silence fell between them, then Grace said, ‘Goodness, I don’t know what I’m thinking of – I haven’t offered you any tea. Would you like some?’
    She began to rise from her seat, but he gave a hurried gesture for her to remain. ‘No, thank you, really. I had some just before I came out.’
    ‘It’ll only take a minute.’
    ‘No, honestly, thank you. I can’t really stay that long.’
    His words took her a little by surprise. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m sure you must have a lot to do, having just arrived back.’
    ‘Yes – this and that.’
    There was something wrong, Grace thought. Granted, there would be acknowledgement of the death of her mother, and the family’s grief, but in spite of that there should have been a greater ease between them. But it was not there. He had not even made a step towards her. And the conversation, such as it was, was constrained, stilted. Inher mind she had pictured their reunion – and it had never been like this. She was aware suddenly of the silence in the room, and in the quiet she heard the singing of a blackbird in the flowering cherry just outside the window.
    ‘And how have you been, Stephen?’ Grace asked.
    ‘Oh – well, thank you. Very well.’
    ‘You certainly look well. The tropical air obviously agrees with you.’
    ‘Perhaps it does.’
    The silence again. Then he said, ‘I came a little earlier this evening because – well, because I had to talk to you.’
    She studied his expression, noting the way his glance shifted away, as if unable to rest on hers for more than a moment. ‘Couldn’t it wait?’ she said with a smile.
    ‘I – I suppose not.’
    Another little silence.
    ‘Are you sure you won’t have some tea?’ Grace said.
    ‘No, really, thank you.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ lifting a hand, gesturing towards the sunlit window frame, ‘you’d care to go outside. It’s such a lovely day – and cooped up in here on such a day, it seems a crime.’ The thought flashed into her mind that she was playing for time.
    ‘Grace,’ he said quickly, ‘Grace – this is very difficult for me. I don’t know how to begin.’
    A little silence, then Grace heard herself say, ‘What is it you want to say to me, Stephen?’ She was forcing herself to sound calm. ‘Tell me.’
    There was a long pause and then, still avoiding her eyes, he said:
    ‘I – I’m to be married.’
    His words, soft in the stillness of the room, struck her like a blow, and inwardly she flinched. She felt that she wanted to rise and run from the room, but she could do nothing except remain where she was, standing there, gazing athim, while outside in the cherry tree the blackbird filled the early evening air with his song. And then at last Stephen turned his eyes to her again – and now it was her turn to look away.
    ‘I’m so sorry to tell you like this,’ he said.
    She gave an inward little shrug, and forced a smile to her mouth. ‘Well, it is something of a surprise, I must admit.’ In truth, she thought, it was like living in a