Act of Will. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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him, with her gypsy-dark hair, widow’s peak and large green eyes that were a reflection of his. Olive, the middle sister, was more like Laurette to look at, but she too had dark hair, and she had inherited her mother’s pale blue eyes. Olive, who was twenty, had married her childhood sweetheart when she was eighteen and she and her husband Hal lived near by.
Maggie joined Vincent and Laurette at the kitchen table.
She stood next to her favourite brother, rested one hand on his shoulder and with the other she slapped a packet of Woodbines down in front of him, along with some loose change.
‘Here’s your cigs, our Vincent. And don’t smoke ‘em all at once either. Because I’m not going out again today. Not for nobody I’m not. Not even you. So there!’ Flopping down on the chair next to him she threw him a challenging look, added, ‘If you want to know, I’m fed up being everybody’s blinking errand boy!’
He threw back his head and roared. ‘Aren’t you the tough little tiddler this morning. But thanks for getting my cigs, love.’
Laurette said, ‘I can’t believe everybody went out…on a cruel day like this…why, it’s blue murder out there, Vincent. Where on earth have they all gone?’
‘Dad went to the barber’s to get a haircut. Our Frank, the aspiring equestrian, is at Hardcastle’s stables, helping to exercise the horses. And the learned Bill took his books back to the library.’
‘I see.’ Laurette sipped her tea. There was a short pause. Then she asked, ‘Olive’s not been up this morning, has she?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Oh I am glad I haven’t missed her. We’re supposed to be going to the old-time dancing tonight, and I want to make my arrangements with her.’ Laurette paused and smiled at her brother as an idea struck her. ‘Would you like to come with us, Vincent?’
‘I would!’ Maggie interjected eagerly, swinging her eyes to her sister. ‘Let me come with you and Olive, Laurette. Please.’
‘No, you can’t, you’re too young,’ Laurette said. ‘Well, Vincent, what about it?’
He shook his head. ‘No, thanks for asking, though.’
‘But why not?’ Laurette demanded. ‘You’d enjoy it. Come on, say you’ll come with us.’
He shook his head more vehemently.
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