Elizabeth Elgin

The Linden Walk


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      ELIZABETH ELGIN

       The Linden Walk

       DEDICATION

       For Ian Sommerville, friend and editor

      CONTENTS

       Cover

       Title Page

       Ten

       Eleven

       Twelve

       Thirteen

       Fourteen

       Fifteen

       Sixteen

       Seventeen

       Eighteen

       Nineteen

       Twenty

       Twenty-One

       Twenty-Two

       Twenty-Three

       Twenty-Four

       Twenty-Five

       Twenty-Six

       Twenty-Seven

       Twenty-Eight

       About the Author

       By the Same Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Dear Reader,

      You don’t need to have read the previous four ‘Sutton books’ to enjoy this book. The Linden Walk is a novel in its own right, though you might be forgiven for calling it an indulgence on my part because I too wanted to know what finally happened to the Clan, those six younglings who grew to maturity during the long years of the Second World War: Tatiana and Andrew, the Kentucky cousins Sebastian and Kathryn – we knew them as Tatty, Drew, Bas and Kitty – and Daisy and Keth, of course.

      There were things to be explained, too, loose ends to be tied. Would Drew love again after losing Kitty? Would Keth return to France to find the grave of the young girl shot whilst helping him to reach safety in England? Would Tatty ever meet the half-brother – or sister – she knew to exist?

      I have untangled these mysteries and, in doing so, have had the joy of creating a new Clan who will know the delights of growing up at Rowangarth as their parents did, and running free as my first Clan, whilst the sombre and empty Pendenys Place moulders away, unwanted and unloved.

      I hope you will enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.

      Love,

      Elizabeth.

       ONE

       September, 1948

      ‘Well, that’s the christening over and everyone gone but me.’ Lyndis Carmichael got to her feet. ‘Care to walk me home, Drew?’

      ‘I seem to remember,’ he said softly, ‘you asking me that once before.’

      ‘Yes. Before …’

      ‘Before Kitty,’ Drew Sutton supplied, gravely.

      ‘Mm. I asked this sailor to see me back to Wrens’ Quarters. We’d never dated before – not him and me alone, exactly. Usually his sister was there, too.’

      ‘But that night?’ he prompted.

      ‘That night, Wren Carmichael made a complete fool of herself. She asked that sailor if he would kiss her goodnight – as in properly, and not the usual brotherly peck on the cheek. And when he did, that stupid Wren offered her virginity on a plate; told the sailor she was in love with him. Best forgotten, wouldn’t you say?’

      ‘But I just remembered it!’

      ‘Well,