found the post office, posted the letter and remembered that she hadn’t had her coffee, so she left the car parked and went to look for a café. There were any number, and she chose the Hideaway, largely because of its name, and the first person she saw as she went inside was Eileen Hunt.
It was impossible to pretend that she hadn’t seen her, and when Eileen beckoned her over to share her table she went over, wishing she’d chosen any café but that one. But Eileen seemed pleased to see her. ‘Such a pity you had to go early yesterday,’ she observed with apparent friendliness, ‘but I daresay you find our little dinner parties rather dull after London.’
‘I don’t go out a great deal—at least not to dinner parties. I found this one very pleasant.’ Judith ordered her coffee and changed the subject. ‘What a lovely morning.’
Eileen sipped coffee. ‘Yes. I expect you go out a good deal with the doctors in the hospital, don’t you?’
‘Occasionally,’ said Judith coolly.
‘How romantic,’ said Eileen, and flicked a quick glance at Judith. ‘I daresay you’ll marry one of them.’
Judith thought very briefly of Nigel. Her mother had forwarded two letters from him and she hadn’t answered either of them; she went faintly pink with guilt and Eileen smiled. ‘Wouldn’t it be thrilling if he came all this way just to see you?’
‘Very thrilling,’ said Judith, refusing to be drawn. She finished her coffee. ‘I must go—I hadn’t intended coming out this morning and I’ve a mass of things to do.’ She smiled a polite goodbye, got to her feet and turned round, straight into Professor Cresswell. He sidestepped to avoid her and with a quick good morning, she went past him and out of the café. So much for those learned hours at his desk, brooding over the twelfth century! It rankled that he had found her visit to the house so disturbing—squawking like a hen, she remembered with fury—and yet he could spend the morning with that giggling idiot of an Eileen. Well, he’d got what he deserved, she told herself as she drove back to Hawkshead, and it was no business of hers, anyway. And in three days’ time she would be going home.
On her last day, with Mrs Lockyer safely back in the kitchen, Judith took herself off to Coniston. She had promised herself that she would climb the Old Man of Coniston, and although it was well past lunchtime by the time she got there there were several paths which would take her to the top without the need to hurry too much. She parked the car in the village and started off. She enjoyed walking, even uphill, and she was quite her old self again by now, making an easy job of the climb, and once at the top, perched on a giant boulder to admire the enormous view. It was warm now and presently she curled up and closed her eyes. It would be nice to be at home again, she thought sleepily, and there was still a week before going back to hospital—which reminded her of Nigel. She dozed off, frowning.
She slept for half an hour or more and woke with the sun warm on her face. She didn’t open her eyes at once, but lay there, frowning again. Nigel was bad enough when she was awake, but to dream of him too was more than enough. She sighed and opened her eyes slowly, and looked straight at Charles Cresswell, sitting on another boulder a foot or two away.
‘Why were you frowning?’ he wanted to know.
Judith sat up. Denim slacks and a T-shirt did nothing to detract from her beauty, nor did her tousled hair and her shiny face, warm from the sun still. She said crossly: ‘How did you get here?’
‘I walked.’ He whistled softly and the Border terrier and the labrador appeared silently to sit beside him. ‘The dogs like it here.’
Judith tugged at her T-shirt with a disarming unselfconsciousness. ‘I must be getting back.’ She got to her feet. ‘Goodbye, Professor Cresswell.’
‘Retreat, Judith?’ His voice was smooth.
‘Certainly not—I said I’d be back to give a hand at evening surgery.’
‘You leave tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’ She started to walk past him and he put out a hand and caught her gently by the arm.
‘There’s plenty of time. I should like to know what you think of Hawkshead—of Cumbria—what you’ve seen of it?’
She tried to free her arm and was quite unable to do so. ‘It’s very beautiful. This is my third visit here, you know—I’m not a complete stranger to the Lakes…’
‘You wouldn’t like to live here?’
Just for a moment she forgot that she didn’t like him overmuch. ‘Oh, but I would,’ and then sharply: ‘Why do you ask?’
She was annoyed when he didn’t answer, instead he observed in a silky voice which annoyed her very much: ‘You would find it very tame after London.’
Eileen Hunt had said something very like that too; perhaps they had been discussing her. Judith said sharply: ‘No, I wouldn’t. And now if you’ll let go of my arm, I should like to go.’ She added stiffly: ‘I shan’t see you again, Professor Cresswell; I hope your book will be a success. It’s been nice meeting you.’ She uttered the lie so unconvincingly that he laughed out loud.
‘Of course the book will be a success—my books always are. And meeting you hasn’t been nice at all, Judith Golightly.’
She patted the dogs’ heads swiftly and went down the path without another word. She would have liked to have run, but that would have looked like retreat. She wasn’t doing that, she told herself stoutly; she was getting away as quickly as possible from someone she couldn’t stand the sight of.
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