The Courtyard Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t
worry him at all. Henry didn’t waste time on introspection or expend mental energy worrying about talents he didn’t have. All sorts were needed to make a balance and he could see no reason why he and Gillian shouldn’t be very happy. He felt that each of them was adjusting very well to the other’s way of life and that, given time, they would settle down comfortably together.
    Henry smiled to himself as he went to tell Mrs Ridley that Gillian wouldn’t be in to lunch. He was remembering Gussie’s letter: precise, informative, to the point. It was exactly like all the other letters he had received from her over the years and as such was comforting. She had been delighted by the invitation and he had been delighted by her acceptance of it. Christmas was a family time, underlining the sense of continuity and, now that he was married and the festivities would be properly observed, he felt that she would have as happy a time at Nethercombe as she would with her friends in Bristol. Henry had no idea of Gussie’s lonely existence or financial restraints and not for a moment would she have let him suspect that all was not very well with her. To him it was all quite simple. Gussie loved Nethercombe and now that he was no longer a bachelor living in a cosy, untidy old muddle, it would be very nice to invite her down more often. She loved to walk in the grounds and had as great a passion for the natural world as Henry himself.
    Henry hummed a line from Princess Ida as he went down the long passage that led to the kitchen.
    Â 
    GILLIAN, HAVING NO SUCCESS in rousing her friend, descended on her mother’s flat in Southernhay and invited her out to lunch. Lydia, undeceived by this gesture of filial generosity, took it at its real value but accepted nonetheless. A free lunch is a free lunch.
    â€˜Have you seen Elizabeth lately?’ she asked as she went to get ready for this treat.
    Gillian prowled restlessly, suspecting censure if her answer were to be in the negative.

    â€˜I’ve telephoned once or twice but she’s always so busy,’ she said mendaciously, hoping to deflect criticism.
    â€˜Oh, busy!’ sniffed Lydia, distracted as Gillian had hoped she would be. ‘She has absolutely no need to work. Her parents left her that lovely little house and a perfectly adequate income. Interior design! It’s her way of feeling superior.’
    â€˜She’s good at it though.’ Gillian fanned the flames of jealousy and discontent a little higher. ‘She says she only works for New Money these days. Does their Georgian houses up for them and then goes round all the antique shops buying them a past. That’s what she calls it.’
    â€˜I think it’s patronising,’ said Lydia, remembering anew her failure to charm the tall good-looking Richard away from Elizabeth at the wedding reception.
    â€˜I can’t imagine why she never got married,’ mused Gillian, looking through her mother’s wardrobe to see if she’d bought anything new and if so whether it might be borrowable. ‘She’s really stunning. And that dishy Richard is obviously mad about her.’
    Lydia zipped up her skirt with a vicious whisk.
    â€˜She always says that she’s never met a man for whom it would be worth the irritation of waiting to use the bathroom. More affectation. Anyway, she’s got two bathrooms.’
    Gillian grinned into the wardrobe.
    â€˜Of course, she was wonderful about the wedding …’
    â€˜She’s your godmother, after all.’ Lydia drew her stomach in and peered at herself sideways in the mirror. ‘And she can certainly afford it.’
    â€˜Still. You’re quite right. I simply must get in touch with her …’
    â€˜Oh well. She’s not going anywhere. You sent your bread and butter afterwards?’
    â€˜Of course I did.’ Gillian, following her mother down the stairs, allowed a