Memories of the Storm Read Online Free PDF

earth. Beyond the river to his left,
Jonah glimpsed bright, jewel-green meadows fringing
the further bank but, as the road climbed
steadily round the side of the combe, the noisy
torrent was left behind. Peering from his window,
Jonah could still see the glint of a small stream far
below as it curled and twisted along the valley floor
to join the Barle at Marsh Bridge.
    Clio was wondering what to say to him that would
distract him from the unexpected drama of their
arrival. This morning, in the bright sharp sunlight,
the idea of an apparition seemed an impossible
one. Yet Hester had been firm: something from the
past had reached out to touch Jonah; that much was
clear.
    'He saw his grandfather,' she'd said. 'Something
happened here that might well have left some kind
of emotional vibration' – and had been unwilling to
say anything else beyond expressing a hope that
she and Jonah would have a long talk together.
    After that, Clio had taken refuge in thinking
about Peter and planning his visit. She'd decided
that the elemental wildness of the storm had
heightened reactions, normal feelings were clearly
out of control, and hoped that things would look
different in the morning. And so they did, yet it was
still difficult to think of just the right conversational
opener. As they passed over the cattle-grid onto the
open spaces of Winsford Common, Jonah solved
the problem for her.
    'I'm sorry you won't be here for Lizzie's event,'
he said. 'Have you been taking a sabbatical from
work?'
    'It's my holiday, actually. Hester's had a hip
replacement and though she was looked after by
the Social Services for the first few weeks, I thought
she might like someone with her until she could
drive again. Peter let me take my holiday in one
go.'
    'Lucky for Hester. How did she come to be your
godmother? Do you mind me asking?'
    'Not a bit. My mother was one of Hester's
students and my father was reading History at
Lincoln at the same time. Hester and my mother
developed one of those real bonds that occasionally
spring up between student and tutor and they
stayed closely in touch after Mummy graduated.
Daddy was doing his Ph.D. at Bristol when they got
married. He'd just heard that he'd got his MA when
I appeared on the scene. Hence the name: Clio was
the muse of history but not many people know that
these days. It's spelled with an "i" not an "e".
Anyway, Mummy asked Hester to be my godmother
and when I was little we usually spent part of the
long vac with her and other members of the family
at Bridge House. She always keeps my room for me.
My parents moved about rather a lot when I was
growing up, they're a peripatetic pair, and Hester
has been a constant in my life. It's been important
and special to have her there.'
    'I envy you.'
    Clio had the feeling that, although Jonah was
staring out over the sunlit spaces of gorse and
heather to the distant hills in the west, he was
seeing something else: a child arriving at Bridge
House, perhaps, and running up the stairs to make
sure that her little room was just the same.
    'Jonah's brilliant,' Lizzie had said to her. 'He's
amazingly visual; so quick to see a scene or pick up
a nuance.'
    Now, Clio believed that he was doing exactly
that. Glancing sideways at him, she saw that his
face was intent and his whole body tensed as if he
were watching a little scene of his personal devising
and hearing voices other than their own. His expression
reminded her of Peter's when he was
thinking through a new advertising campaign. She
knew better than to interrupt someone who was
working, and turned right at Spire Cross without
further comment, but she knew exactly the moment
when he returned to her, his attention once
more focused with them inside the car, and she
smiled.
    'You'll see Winsford properly this morning. It's a
lovely little village.'
    They were descending between high banks and
tall trees, down a narrow lane running between
whitewashed cottages and stone houses into the
village.
    'It's great. Oh,