Inheritance

Chapter Twenty-seven. Jealousy.

Chapter Twenty-seven 

Jealousy 

John missed his connection at Manchester Piccadilly. The next train to Sheffield didn't leave for almost three hours. What a pain! Being Sunday, the station was almost deserted. Only the newsagent was open. John, thinking a good novel would help to pass the time and give his mind some reprieve from the worries that were plaguing him, scanned the rack of paperbacks, shunning the lurid Sunday newspapers. He bought the recently published paperback version of "Dr. No." The book failed on both counts.  

As he sat reading, huddled in the corner of the dank waiting room, his thoughts strayed. What was he going to say to Gillian? She would be expecting so much, especially after their last night together. Maybe it would be better for both of them if he moved out of the bungalow. But it was so comfortable, cheaper than digs, right on a bus line to the University, great for study, and Gillian was a fabulous cook. Surely, they could still be friends. 

It was almost ten when he finally reached the terminus in Dore. Feet dragging, he made his way to the bungalow. Gillian must have been watching out for him. As he opened the front gate, the light in the hallway flickered on, and the door opened. She rushed out and wrapped her arms around him. This was going to be difficult. 

"My you're late, John. What kept you? "  

"What a journey! I'm exhausted, and famished. Is there anything to eat?" 

"Of course there is. I've kept supper warming for you. Here let me take your coat and briefcase. Go and freshen up, and I'll lay your food on the kitchen table." 

A dousing with cold water revived him a little. He entered the kitchen, his ravenous eyes alighting on the onion smothered steak and potatoes. Gillian was standing by the stove. 

"Haven't you noticed anything?" 

"I didn't realize you were having a problem with your eyes." 

"I wasn't. It seemed to happen all of a sudden. I suppose it's all the reading and marking. I'm okay with long vision, it's just up close." 

"They really suit you." 

"You think so?" 

"Oh, yes. They're really cute." 

She moved over and gave him a playful dig. "Can you fend for yourself for a bit? I have some marking to finish. When I'm done, I'll make us a cup of cocoa. I'm sure you'll have plenty to tell me." 

Savouring his first meal of the day, John thought about what to tell. Eventually she would have to know, but surely not now. 

About an hour later, there was a cough at the door of his study. He turned. She was no longer wearing her glasses, only a diaphanous nightgown - his Christmas gift. It had seemed a good idea at the time.