Free No Wings to Fly by Jess Foley Page A

said, ‘But as for coming to work at Silver – it’s something we can think about. I’ve no doubt you’d be an asset in the office, and perhaps Miss Carter could do with some assistance. Maybe I’ll talk to Mr Carter and Mr Horsham. Leave the matter with me. I won’t forget, I promise.’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    He raised his head. ‘Enough of business for now, Lily. Look at that sky – you’ve got some nice weather ahead for your holiday.’
    At the station entrance, he asked whether she wanted any help with her bags, but she gratefully declined his offer. All she carried in the way of luggage was an old carpet bag lent to her by Mrs Haskin, and her reticule. Mr Haskin wished her a good holiday, and a few minutes after bidding him farewell, she had bought her ticket and was making her way along the platform.
    There was a delay on the journey, and the train was halted on the tracks for some little time. As a result it was late getting in to Compton Wells. Eventually, though, Lily arrived, and after the short omnibus journey, made her way along the lane to her home. She did so with no feeling of joy. Her two weeks’ holiday stretched out before her, and in spite of her hopes, she knew from past experience that it would not be a time of unalloyed pleasure.
    Her stepmother was in the kitchen when Lily entered, sorting linens at the table. It had been three months since Lily had last seen her, but in spite of the time of separation there was no warm welcome for her, indeed nothing of any welcome at all. Not that she would have expected such a thing.
    ‘Hello, Mother,’ Lily said as she stepped from the scullery.
    Mrs Clair flicked her a glancing look and said, ‘We expected you ages ago.’
    ‘Yes, the train got held up. There were sheep on the line near Cornley.’
    ‘Sheep on the line.’ Mrs Clair shook her head, as if such a thing had never been heard of. ‘Well, we’ve had dinner. We couldn’t wait all day.’
    ‘That’s all right – I’m not hungry. Is Father about? Tom?’
    ‘Your father’s down the garden. Your brother’s gone back to the farm. Dora’s out playing.’
    ‘I’ll put my things away and get changed,’ Lily said. ‘Then I’ll go and say hello to Father.’
    When she had changed into her working dress and apron, she went back downstairs and out into the yard. She found her father at the lower end of the garden, near the small orchard, tying back some raspberry canes. He straightened as Lily approached, and gave her a smile.
    ‘Hello, girl,’ he said. ‘So you got here, did you.’
    ‘Hello, Father. Yes, I got here a minute ago.’
    He gestured to the raspberry canes. ‘I just want to finish this, then I’ll come up. I could do with a cup o’ tea, and I expect you could as well.’
    ‘Yes, I could. The carriage was full, and it was so warm.’
    After a moment he resumed his task, and Lily bent to help him. As they worked he asked her how she was faring at the Haskins’, and she replied that all was well. It was, she knew, what he wanted to hear.
    A little later they returned to the house, where Lily found that Dora had come in from her play.
    ‘What did you bring me?’ Dora asked her. ‘Lily, did you bring me anything?’
    Lily replied that she had indeed brought her a little present, and gave her a little flaxen-haired doll, which she had scrimped for out of her wages. Dora was thrilled with the gift, and chattered over it excitedly.
    Later on, Lily made tea, which, because it was Sunday, was served in the front parlour. Tom came in from his workat the farm soon after five-thirty, but by the time he had washed, and changed his clothes, the tea things had been cleared away and the parlour was shut for another week.
    As the days passed, Lily found herself increasingly eager to get back to Whitton. There had been little pleasurable relaxing, and it was a disappointing time. During the days her father and brother had been out at work, the latter from early in the mornings