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Comfortable behind the wheel, Juliet didn’t even notice that the satnav had vanished from the dashboard. Not that she needed a satnav. She’d done this route so often, she could trust her internal auto-pilot.
Slowing down behind a tractor that was hesitating at a roundabout, Juliet checked in the rear-view mirror to see how many cars were queuing behind her. The reflected sunshine made her dark auburn hair glint like copper thread.
The tractor lurched into motion, and she drove on, taking her favourite scenic route, enjoying seeing the countryside morph from the soft, low hills of the Cotswolds through the leafy Forest of Dean into the more dramatic Brecon Beacons, the road rising, rising, and the sky growing bigger with every mile she travelled. Beyond the tourist attractions, where fencing fields became optional, she slowed down to avoid a chubby lamb trotting along the roadside towards its mother, alarmed at the Mini’s engine noise. The bond between ewe and lamb always warmed her heart. Perhaps one day, she’d be a mother and feel such maternal instincts herself, but not for a long time yet.
Juliet had expected her own mother to object to her plan to go to such a distant university on leaving school, but she’d been only proud and encouraging. Juliet had saved up for the Mini so that she could drive home to see her mum as often as she liked during term-time. Her part-time job in the university library paid for its running costs plus petrol.
Soon bright bluebells dotted the verges, and Juliet wound down the window to catch their scent. She looked forward to strolling through the bluebell woods between the town and the campus later that day. It was her favourite route to and from lectures at this time of year.
Now great horse chestnut trees were towering over her, laden with candelabra-like blossoms in cream and pale pink. The treeline thinned as the road ascended beyond the Brecon Beacons to the high, bare terrain with a different kind of wild beauty that would characterise the rest of her journey. As usual, her ears popped as she summited the highest point and began to glide gently down the other side. The winding hillside road twisted towards an opalescent sea beyond matte slate rocks in a curvaceous double bay.
Croeso i Aberystwyth.
As Juliet followed the main road down to the sea front, only the knowledge that she had to be back at her flat by two o’clock made her resist the temptation to park beneath the old castle and go for a stroll along the promenade. She relished the familiar sea breeze in her hair and the tang of salt on her lips, but she was on a promise.
At the far end of the north bay, past the pier, she turned back inland and down a side street. There was just enough space to slip the Mini into its usual parking place between a turquoise Ford Capri and a yellow Hillman Imp. Grabbing her basket, she stepped out of the car on to the pavement.
Maisie was calling to her from the nearest doorway. Behind her, narrow stairs led up to their flat above the wool shop. They’d been lucky to nab this place as their third-year digs after spending the first year in halls and the second sharing a bigger house with two other girls and three boys.
“You’re right on time,” said Maisie, “but your friend Monty was early. He must be keen. I’ve made him a coffee and left him upstairs on the sofa reading his book, but I must dash now. I’ve got a lecture at half past.”
Juliet hastened to the foot of the stairs before Maisie could broadcast any more of her business to the street.
“Thanks, Maisie, I owe you.”
Maisie shrugged. “He looks like the type who’d wait for you all day. He’s spent the last ten minutes telling me how wonderful you are.”
“No wonder you’re so keen to rush off to your lecture.”
Maisie laughed. “Well, I’d hate to play gooseberry.”
Juliet didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. She had promised to give him her decision today. She ran up the stairs two at a time.
When she opened the door that led from the tiny square landing into their small sitting room, a young blond man with kind grey eyes and a wide mouth looked up from his battered paperback. Montague was a History student whom she’d befriended in the university library. Lately, he’d been trying to persuade her to apply for the postgraduate degree in Librarianship that he was planning to do the following year. The most welcome chat-up line she’d ever had, she’d told Maisie.
As Juliet set her basket down on the ancient but pristine coffee table, he stuck his student union card in his book to mark his place and stuffed it in his denim satchel. His generous mouth broadened into the warmest of smiles.
“Hello, Juliet,” he said. “It’s lovely to see you. Sorry to be here before you were, I was just so eager to know your decision. I mean, I don’t want to rush you or put pressure on you, but you know tomorrow is the closing date for the MSc course? I’ve already put in my application.”
When Juliet stepped around the table to sit beside him on the sofa, he budged up to allow her more space.
“I really hope you want to do it,” he continued, “and not only so that we can spend another year at university together. The extra qualification would be the passport to a terrific career for you. You see –”
Gently Juliet laid a hand on his arm.
“It’s OK, Montague, no further persuasion needed. I put my application in weeks ago, before I even met you. My tutor told me I'm bound to be offered a place. I'm so glad, because I've known for years that I want to be a career librarian.”
“So do you think you'll accept the place?”
His earnest eyes met hers, and she smiled.
“I do.”
THANK YOU FOR READING
MRS MORRIS CHANGES LANES
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