Page 52 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
Vicky felt the warmth of pure relief surging through her — she had been dreading having to tell Bez’s mother what had happened. Whatever the reason for Bez changing her mind, she could only be thankful that she had.
The sun had come out, shimmering on the wet road and sparkling like diamonds on the leaves of the trees. From time to time she could catch a distant glimpse of the sea. A small smile tugged irresistibly at the corners of her mouth.
Bez glanced at her, seeming to pick up on her thoughts. “Are you going to stay here?”
“I’m not sure.” The smile widened. “I’ll be staying for a while, at least.”
She could afford to now. The money Mr Digby had deposited in her bank for the purchase of Molly’s jewellery would keep her going for a couple of months. And if the brooch was worth as much as he had suggested, she would be able to pay for the renovations without having to take out a loan, in spite of having to add it to the inheritance tax bill.
“You were right, by the way,” she said.
“Oh?”
“About Molly being involved with the Resistance in Paris during the war. Even though she was only fourteen. I found a medal, a Resistance medal, and I went into that little jewellers on the High Street.”
“Digby’s?”
“That’s right. He has a friend who knows about medals and he identified it and looked up Molly’s name. Would you like to see it?”
They had reached the roundabout. As they had to wait for a couple of cars ahead of them, she fumbled in her pocket and pulled the medal out of the bag.
Bez took it, turning it over in her hand. “Patria non immemor.Patria...Does that mean country?Nonwouldprobably mean not, or does not.Immemor? I’d guess that means something about memory, remembering.”
“Well done — close. It’s ‘the nation does not forget’.”
“I like languages. I’m doing French at A level — and Spanish. I think I might do a degree in modern languages.”
“That would be good.” Vicky nodded encouragement. “There’s plenty of career scope with that.”
“I don’t know which university I’d like to go to,” she mused. “What do you think?”
“I don’t really know — it depends on which course you’re doing. There’s a website that gives you all the rankings, and what the students say about them. Have a look. Search for Student Reviews.”
Bez pulled out her phone and typed in the search request. The rest of the drive was occupied with debating the pros and cons of each university, and whether she wanted to stay near home, at Plymouth or Exeter, or go to London, or even venture further afield.
* * *
“The school’s just down here. Turn left, then first right.”
Vicky followed the directions, turning into a quiet street with smart houses on one side, and a long green hedge on the other. Above the hedge she could see a two-storey red-brick building. To one side was a large car park, to the other a row of tennis courts.
“This is it?”
“Uh-huh. Stop just down there by the gate. Thanks very much for the lift and... everything.”
“You won’t get into trouble for being away this morning?”
“No — I had double library, so no one will have noticed. Oh...”
Brenda was bustling across the car park towards them, her face like thunder. “Where on earth have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been worried sick. I found your clothes and your backpack gone, and that stupid note, and when I rang the school they said you hadn’t been in.”
“No.” It wasn’t with defiance but a new-found confidence that Bez greeted her mother. “I was going to London.”
“What?”
“I changed my mind,” she announced simply. “I decided to try to get into university after all.”
“Well, I...” Brenda stared at her daughter in astonishment. “What brought that on? And what are you doing in that car?”
