‘You sound just like your mum! How is she?’
‘Subdued. Jo is here and they are making a little shrine in the garden: flowers, crystals, shells from the beach, some willow weaving. It’s beautiful.’
‘I’ve got to go into Cowes this morning and collect some plants for Guy which are coming over on the ferry. Fancy coming with me? We could take Wilbur for a walk on Tennyson Down afterwards. That’s if your mum doesn’t mind being left on her own.’
‘They’ll be busy for ages, and a walk is just what I need.’
‘Tennyson used to walk up here almost every day, whatever the weather,’ Carrie said, keeping Wilbur firmly on the lead because of the cliff edge. ‘Sometimes he used to pull his wife, Emily, in a little carriage.’
Jules trailed her fingers over the railings which surrounded the tall granite monument erected in honour of the great poet.
‘He lived on the island for thirty-nine years,’ Carrie said, ‘and he was incredibly famous in his day. He had a bridge built over the road so that he could walk directly from his beloved garden at Farringford House on to the High Down without having to fend off his adoring public.’
‘He sounds like a modern-day celebrity.’
‘Absolutely. He was considered almost as famous as Queen Victoria or the prime minister, William Gladstone. Did youknow he wrote “Tis better to have loved and lost/than never to have loved at all”?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Jules threw back her head and let the wind ruffle her hair. ‘Do you think the parents of that baby would think that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Carrie said, as she stared into the distance. ‘Some people seem to get more than their fair share of pain, don’t they?’
Jules thought about Lance and Erin and Rita and Tasha and how resilient they were. You could learn such a lot from how others coped with adversity. She stood next to Carrie and linked their arms.
‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ she said.
‘You’ve already told me that,’ Carrie replied with a smile.
‘I know but this time I really mean it. Thank you for bringing me here to this island, to the cottage, to these people.’
When they returned to the cottage Lance’s car was parked outside.
‘Looks as if you’ve got a visitor,’ Carrie said.
‘Mmm,’ Jules replied. ‘I wonder what he wants.’
‘Only one way to find out,’ Carrie laughed, half pushing her out of the car.
‘He might want to see you,’ Jules said, aware that she sounded panicky.
‘I very much doubt it,’ Carrie said.
‘You’re coming in, though?’
‘Sorry, I need to get these plants to Guy. Besides, you’ve got a chaperone right here.’
Jules groaned as Beulah came rushing out of the front door, a large bunch of sage in her arms.
‘That walk looks as if it’s done you the world of good,’ Beulah said. ‘Blown some of your cares away. You have some colour in your cheeks at last.’
She winked at Jules.
‘We have a visitor in the kitchen pacing up and down like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice when he was about to tell Elizabeth Bennett how ardently he admired her.’
‘Have fun!’ Carrie called through the open window, before heading back up the lane.
‘I wouldn’t get excited, Mum,’ Jules said drily. ‘I very much doubt he’s come to propose to a spinster not of this parish.’
‘Oh, Jules, you are such a hoot. I must take a walk on Tennyson Down myself if it’s so good for one’s sense of humour. Lance has a very good sense of humour. That’s so important in a man, don’t you think?’
