The Legacy

Начало книги

Evelyne Jones sat at the kitchen table, the tip of her tongue pressed to her top lip as she concentrated on her handwriting. The house was silent, everyone asleep, and the kitchen was lit only by firelight. She wore an old shirt of her Da’s, and her long, skinny body was hunched over her work, her bare feet one on top of the other for warmth. Evelyne’s waist-length thick red hair was braided into a single plait down her back. Small wisps of curls clung to her forehead.

She yawned, stretching her arms above her head like a ballet dancer. Her thin frame, without an ounce of fat, was more like a young boy’s, and she was so tall, too tall for her age, head and shoulders above the rest of the girls in her class at school.

Hugh Jones, Evelyne’s father, caught his breath. She hadn’t heard him come down the stairs to stand in the darkness, watching her. Everyone said that poor Evie Jones was no beauty — so tall and thin — her best feature was her wondrous hair. Some had even said it should be ironed, it was like the fan of a concertina. But at that moment Hugh thought she was the most exquisite creature he had ever set eyes on; he couldn’t move, she held him mesmerized by some magic.

Читать дальше →