Free Holding On by Marcia Willett Page B

feel a part of the working household. Even more was she aware of the courage he was showing in accepting his disabilities. To begin with he had been morose, railing against the passage of time, reluctant to allow Josh free rein in the garden, but now he was cheerful, not bearing his pain and lack of usefulness mechanically, as a suffered tragedy, but using it to help himself to grow, turning it into a kind of grace which benefited them all. She had always been anxious for his physical wellbeing; now she saw that there was the inner man, another important part of Fox which was still painfully developing.
    â€˜No need to hurry with that tea,’ she said sharply to Caroline. ‘I’ll get this icing done before those men come cluttering up the kitchen. Plenty of time.’

Chapter Eight
    â€˜I’m bored,’ declared Kit. ‘Fed up. I need a change. Do you realise I’ve been in the same job for seven years. A bit longer if you count working there while I was at university. I need pastures new.’
    â€˜Marry me,’ suggested Jake, stretched full length on his deep, cushiony sofa amidst the Sunday papers. ‘Give in. Accept that we were made for each other. We’ve been going for seven years, too. I hope you’re not bored with me.’
    Kit stopped prowling about Jake’s large sitting room and looked at him thoughtfully. ‘It’s habit,’ she suggested cautiously. ‘We’re used to one another, like an old married couple already.’
    â€˜We’re nothing of the sort,’ said Jake indignantly. ‘Did our passionate night of love mean nothing to you, ungrateful wench? I love you. God knows I’ve told you often enough.’
    â€˜That’s what I mean,’ insisted Kit. ‘It’s become a habit.’
    Jake sighed deeply. ‘How can I convince you?’ he asked. ‘Surely my regular proposals are indicative of my serious intention. I don’t go about asking every nubile young woman to marry me, you know. I’ve even resisted Sin. No easy matter, I assure you.’
    â€˜No man is safe with Sin,’ grumbled Kit. ‘I can’t imagine why I like her so much. She’s got a new chap. Twice her age and terribly rich. It’s a bit suspicious if you ask me . . .’
    â€˜Don’t change the subject,’ said Jake calmly. ‘Sin was merely brought in to back up my argument. We’re talking about you and me. Your mother likes me. Your grandmother and great-uncle like me. Even Hal likes me—’
    â€˜Why even Hal?’ interrupted Kit, interested.
    â€˜I’m a Frenchman,’ said Jake simply. ‘Jacques Villon – my very name is against me. Hal’s so English, isn’t he? Doesn’t like frogs as a rule. England’s natural enemy and so on. But he does quite like me in a cautious, reluctant sort of way.’
    â€˜But you are English,’ argued Kit. ‘Your mother is English. You were educated at Ampleforth . . .’
    â€˜Aah,’ said Jake, shaking his head sadly, ‘and that’s another thing. I’m a Roman Catholic. Scarlet woman and all that.’
    â€˜You’ve lapsed,’ said Kit severely. ‘So don’t try to get sympathy on that score.’
    â€˜I wasn’t angling for sympathy,’ said Jake. ‘I just want an answer to my proposal. Will you marry me? I have a good position in a merchant bank. I own this nice flat. I am kind to children and animals. I stay awake at the opera . . . You’re going to say “no” again, I can see it. I need a drink. Did we have lunch? Never mind. I still need a drink.’
    Kit watched him affectionately as he rolled off the sofa, felt about amongst the mass of newspaper for his horn-rimmed spectacles and wandered away towards the kitchen.
    She thought: I do love him, but is it the grand passion? Supposing I married him and then met someone else who really swept me off my