You Only Love Twice Read Online Free PDF

wondered how the boys would react when they saw her as she was now. She was no longer Sister Martha, no longer in the garb of a novice. Deep down, she’d always suspected she had no calling as a nun, and now she knew it. She was plain Miss Jessica Hayward, and dressed to suit her new station in life.
    Her new station in life. She absently dipped one hand into the crock of flour by her elbow, rubbed her hands together and began to divide the dough into three equal parts. She would not have been human if she hadn’t been avidly curious to know about her friends. She’d met one already, Mr. Perry Wilde. Yesterday, he’d stopped her in Sheep Street and had seemed really pleased to see her. It had been an awkward moment for her. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d lost her memory. As irrational as it was, she was ashamed, fearful. She didn’t want fingers pointing at her or people whispering behind her back, saying that she was odd. What she wanted more than anything was to be treated as an ordinary girl.
    Oh yes, just an ordinary girl! If they ever got to know of her Voice, they would do to her what they’d done to Joan of Arc.
    Time and enough to think of that later. For the present, it was her job to bake the bread. And when she’d finished with that, there were strawberry tarts to make. Infact, there was no end of work to keep her busy. The house looked well enough from the outside, but inside it was a shambles. The day before, after they arrived, they’d done no more than clean out the kitchen and one of the bedrooms. When Sisters Dolores and Elvira returned from Chalford, where they’d gone to fetch supplies, they were going to tackle the rest of the house, with Joseph doing most of the heavy work. Meanwhile, he was out searching for firewood and she had bread, scones and pies to make.
    She worked quickly now, patting the dough into three loaves and covering them with a damp cloth before setting them aside. There were no eggs to be had, so she used milk to brush the surface of the scones she’d just made, and grasping the long wooden paddle at the side of the fireplace, she eased them into the brick oven. The heat from the fire was scorching hot, and when the scones were in place, she shut the door with a snap and swiftly stepped back. It took only a few moments to set out the ingredients for her strawberry tarts.
    She straightened and stretched her spine. The table was too low for comfort, and if she was going to do most of the cooking, which seemed likely, one of the first things they would have to do was replace it or she would end up with a permanent backache. To ease her aching muscles, she took a few paces around the kitchen, then wandered into the breakfast room and into the front hall.
    There was a long, cracked pier glass between two doors, and though she always avoided looking at herself when the sisters were there, she had to admit that nothing in the house fascinated her half as much as that looking glass. There were no mirrors in the convent that were bigger than a thumbnail. Until now, she’d never seen a full-length reflection of herself.
    The girl in the looking glass stared solemnly back at her. Jessica moved closer and traced the reflection of her eyes, her brows, her nose, her chin. She smiled, shefrowned, she turned this way and that to get a better look at herself. Though she was by no means sure, she thought her best feature might be her hair. It was the color of honey and the curl could only be tamed when she did it in a long plait, as now. Her figure—she removed her apron and set it on a bench—she thought was too thin. The high-waisted spotted muslin hung on her loosely. She pinched it between her fingers to get a smoother fit. That was better. She wondered if that nice young man she’d met on Sheep Street thought she was pretty.
    This was vanity. She shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. The mother superior was right. Idleness was an invention of the devil. She should get back