Leading Lady
“G. Wells’s War of the Worlds until midnight, then lying awake listening to her own heart thump as house noises became malevolent Martians. At half past twelve, she finally rang for Joyce to sit just inside her bedchamber. Even then, she had to bury her head under her covers with just a space for breathing, before she was able to drift into fitful slumber.
No more scary stories at night, she promised herself at breakfast, knowing she would break that resolve within the week.
Downstairs, ...she pulled boots on over her slippers, a knit cap over her head, and a cardigan over a fresh gardening smock. Frigid February air stung her nose in the garden. “Good mornin’, m’Lady,” Watterson said, shovel clanking against the bed of the barrow as he pushed a load of bark toward the ligustrum. He had been a boxer in his youth, so said Mrs. Burles, and had the misshapen nose to prove it.
Muriel nodded and stepped farther along the path, surveying the direction from which the gardener had come.MoreLess
No more scary stories at night, she promised herself at breakfast, knowing she would break that resolve within the week.
Downstairs, ...she pulled boots on over her slippers, a knit cap over her head, and a cardigan over a fresh gardening smock. Frigid February air stung her nose in the garden. “Good mornin’, m’Lady,” Watterson said, shovel clanking against the bed of the barrow as he pushed a load of bark toward the ligustrum. He had been a boxer in his youth, so said Mrs. Burles, and had the misshapen nose to prove it.
Muriel nodded and stepped farther along the path, surveying the direction from which the gardener had come.MoreLess
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