Happy showers in the rain. Happy Steps in the Rain (Jojo Moyes) read book online on iPad, iPhone, android
Jojo Moyes is a British novelist and journalist who writes mainly in the direction of women's novels. For a long time, the writer had to work as a journalist, but soon she devoted herself to creativity and has since written 9 novels, which have so attracted fans of her writing and ordinary readers.
On the site you can download for free “Happy Steps in the Rain” in fb2, epub, pdf, txt, doc and rtf - “Jojo Moyes”
What is the book about?
Happy Steps in the Rain is a new novel from the famous writer Jojo Moyes, which was published in 2016. In the foreground we see 21-year-old Joy, who in 1950 met a naval officer and soon fell in love with him. The young couple quickly got married and left for another country to look for better life. Soon Joy gave birth to a little girl, Kate, with whom her mother has constant problems. The girl grows up unpredictable and cheerful, but she has a bad relationship with her mother. Kate runs away to arrange her personal life and thinks that in the future she will be able to treat her children with understanding.
Unfortunately, history repeats itself and Kate grows up with a very eccentric and selfish daughter, Sabina, with whom she also cannot find common topics of conversation. It turns out that the girl goes to her grandmother and soon all three learn about the terrible secrets that have been hidden by their family for a long time. Will three generations of women be able to forgive each other and finally find happiness and peace? Will they be able to forget the past and adjust their future?
What can the book teach the reader?
Author Jojo Moyes manages to subtly convey that facet of relationships between three generations of women. As it turns out, they are all different in character, appearance and behavior, but each of them repeats the mistakes of their mother and does not want to admit it. The book “Happy Steps in the Rain” raises many relevant topics for today, such as the relationship between mother and daughter, the influence of parents on their children and the rules of raising a child, which the main characters, unfortunately, have forgotten. The writer managed to convey happy moments and periods of sadness with accuracy, point out character flaws and show what the relationship between mother and daughter could really be like.
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Who is the work intended for?
The novel "Happy Steps in the Rain" is modern work, intended for most generations of readers. The book does not allow you to tear yourself away because of the representation in it of several generations of one family and the relationships between them. Every reader is simply obliged to pay attention to the problems presented in the book and try to prevent them from occurring in their daily life.
Current page: 1 (book has 24 pages total) [available reading passage: 14 pages]
Jojo Moyes
Happy steps in the rain
Charles Arthur and Betty McKee
Prologue
Then the archbishop must kiss right hand queens. After which the Duke of Edinburgh must ascend the steps of the throne and, having removed his crown, kneel before Her Majesty, place his folded hands in her palms and pronounce the words of the oath:
“I, Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, become your vassal for life and will honor you and serve you faithfully until my death, protecting you from all sorts of misfortunes. May God help me."
Having risen, he should touch the crown on Her Majesty's head and kiss Her Majesty on the left cheek.
In the same way, the Duke of Gloucester and the Duke of Kent must take the oath in turn.
From the order of the coronation service ceremony, 1953
It was quite a shame, Joy later thought, to meet her future husband on the day that became Princess Elizabeth’s day. Or Queen Elizabeth II, as she was solemnly christened at the end of that day. Despite the importance of this event for both of them, it did not cause, at least for Joy, joyful excitement.
That day foreshadowed rain, and not a wonderful meeting at all. The leaden skies over Hong Kong Bay are swollen with moisture. As Joy strolled slowly through Victoria Peak Park with Stella, Joy clutched a folder of damp sheet music, feeling her armpits slick with sweat and her blouse clinging to her back, which did not add to her monarchical fervor at the thought of a coronation reception at the Brougham-Scott house.
Joy's mother paced restlessly around the house, excited by the presence of her father, who had returned from another trip to China. Each time his appearance seemed to cause a sharp drop in Alice's mood, and Joy no longer hoped to avoid her mother's displeasure.
- Don't you dare wear that! – Frowning and pursing her bright red lips into a dissatisfied grimace, she told her daughter.
Joy kept her eyes on the door, eagerly awaiting Stella's appearance. Then she wouldn't have to go to the Brougham-Scott villa with her parents. Joy lied to them that the owners asked them to bring the sheet music in advance. Even walking with her parents made her seasick.
“You look so homely, honey.” Again you put on high heels and you will tower over everyone.
That familiar word “sweetheart” was supposed to sweeten Alice’s unpleasant remarks.
- I will be sitting.
“It’s impossible to sit all evening.”
“Then I’ll bend my knees.”
“You should wear a wide belt.” He will shorten you.
- But it will cut into the ribs.
“I don’t understand why you should be so stubborn.” I'm just trying to help you. And you don't even seem to be trying to look attractive.
- Oh, mom, I don’t care. And no one cares about this. It's unlikely that anyone will pay attention to me. Everyone will listen to the princess say an oath or something like that.
“Just leave me alone,” Joy begged in her heart. “God forbid I have to listen to your barbs all evening.”
- Well, I don’t care. People will think that I brought up in you a disdainful attitude towards things.
It was very important to Alice what people thought. “Everything is in plain sight in Hong Kong,” she liked to say. Someone is always looking at you, someone is gossiping about you. “What a tiny and boring world we live in,” Joy wanted to answer. But she was silent, although it was true.
The father will undoubtedly get drunk and kiss all the women on the lips instead of the cheek, causing them to look around nervously for fear that they themselves have given him a reason. Having relaxed a little, he will later yell at Alice. A good wife wouldn't stop her husband from having a little fun after a few weeks of exhausting work in China, because we all know what it's like to deal with Asians! It changed a lot after the Japanese invasion. But they didn’t talk about it then.
The Brougham-Scotts were there. And the Marchants, and the Dickinsons, and the Alleyns. And all the other married couples who belonged to a special class that lived between the Peak and Robinson Road (in those days, the "middle tier" was actually the clerk class). They met at parties at the Hong Kong Cricket Club, at the races in Happy Valley, and sailed together on junks to outlying islands, drinking sherry and lamenting mosquitoes, buying milk, property prices and the shocking ignorance of the Chinese. They talked about England, about how they missed it, about those coming from there now, about their boring, uninteresting life and about how dull England seemed to them then, although the war had ended a long time ago. But most of all they gossiped about each other, and the military used a special language, seasoned with soldier jokes, merchants mercilessly reviled their competitors, and women, competing in causticity, joined first one group, then another.
But the worst thing was that there was William, who never missed a single gathering, with a sloping chin and sparse blond hair, which went well with his squeaky voice. He used to put a damp hand around Joy’s waist and, without asking her consent, lead her somewhere. Out of politeness, pretending to listen, she looked from above the top of his head, noticing new bald patches.
- Do you think she's worried? – Stella asked.
Her shiny hair was gathered at the back of her head. Not a single stray hair frizzed in the humid air, unlike Joy's hair, which tended to fluff up as soon as it was pulled into a bun. When Joy pinned her hair up, her maid Bei Ling would frown and grumble, as if Joy was doing it on purpose.
- Princess. I'd be worried. Just think about all these witnesses to the ceremony...
IN Lately Stella, who was sporting a red skirt, white blouse and blue cardigan for the upcoming celebrations, seemed to Joy to be showing some kind of unhealthy interest in Princess Elizabeth. The friend discussed the princess's jewelry, her outfits, the weight of the crown, even how her husband was probably jealous of her title, since he himself would not become king. Joy suspected that Stella was trying to identify with the princess.
- Well, not everyone will see her. Many, like us, will only listen to the report on the radio.
Both of them stepped aside to let the car pass, having time to glance into it to see if there were any acquaintances there.
“But the princess may still mix up the words.” I would have mixed it up. I probably would have stammered.
Joy doubted this, since Stella was the picture of a real lady in almost every way. Unlike Joy, Stella had the height of a young lady, and she wore elegant clothes that a Tsim Sha Tsui dressmaker made for her in the latest Parisian styles. Stella never faltered or sulked in company and could chat tirelessly with an endless series of officers who were forced to attend receptions to take their minds off their imminent deployment to the Korean War.
– Do you think we will stay until the end?
- Until the end of the ceremony? – Joy exhaled, kicking the stone. - This will take more than one hour, everyone will get drunk and start gossiping. And my mother will start flirting with Duncan Alleyn and talking about how William Farquharson is related to the Jardines and has every chance of marrying a girl of my social standing.
– I would say that he is not tall enough to match your position in society. – Stella also made jokes sometimes.
– I specifically put on high-heeled shoes.
- Okay, Joy. This is great. We will have a new queen.
– What is there to be particularly happy about? – Joy shrugged. – We even live with her in different countries.
“But she is still our queen.” And almost the same age as us! Just think! This is the same great reception for many years. Everyone will gather there.
“But there won’t be anything new there.” It's no fun going to parties where the same people are always there.
- Oh, Joy, why set yourself up for boredom? Lots of new people to talk to.
“But I have nothing to talk to them about.” They are only interested in stores and rags and who harmed whom.
“Excuse me,” Stella said mockingly, “but what else is there to talk about?”
- I don't mean you. You know what I mean. There must be many other things in life. Don't you want to go to America? Or to England? Travel around the world?
– I have already visited many places. – (Stella’s father was a ship captain.) – Honestly, it seems to me that people everywhere are interested in the same thing. In Singapore it was one big cocktail party. Even mom got bored. One way or another, people are not always the same. There are officers. There will be a lot of them there today. And you probably won’t meet everyone.
A lot of officers had gathered. The wide terrace of the Brougham-Scott Villa, which had commanded a magnificent view of Hong Kong Bay in those rare moments when the fog cleared from the top of Victoria Peak, was now a sea white. Inside, under fans whirring like huge propellers, Chinese servants in soft shoes, also dressed in white jackets, silently scurried among the guests, serving drinks with ice in tall glasses on silver trays. The hum of voices either drowned out the music or was drowned out by it, and the music itself seemed to fade away in the suffocating, humid heat. The Union Jack pennants hanging from the ceiling dangled like wet rags, barely swayed by the artificial breeze.
In the corner of the marble living room, the seductive, languidly pale Alwyn Brougham-Scott reclined on a damask chaise longue. As usual, she was surrounded by a crowd of alert officers. Alwyn wore a deep purple silk dress with a plunging neckline and a gathered skirt that fell in folds over her long pale legs. There are no sweat stains under her arms, Joy noted to herself, pressing her arms tighter to her sides. Alwyn had already kicked one of her shoes, trimmed with faux ermine fur, to the floor, revealing her bright red nails. Joy knew exactly what her mother would say when she saw Alvin and was annoyed at herself for not having the courage to do it herself. Alice didn't go beyond bright red lipstick, but not because she didn't want to.
Joy and Stella placed the sheet music on the table and nodded in greeting, knowing that Mrs. Brougham-Scott did not like to be interrupted.
– How will we listen to the ceremony? – Stella asked, looking around anxiously in search of the radio. – How will they know when it starts?
“Don’t worry, my dear, we still have time,” Duncan Alleyne replied, looking at his watch. – Don’t forget that in your homeland the time is eight hours behind.
Duncan always talked like an RAF hero from war films. The girls thought it was funny, but Alice, to Joy's annoyance, seemed to imagine that she herself looked like Celia Johnson 1
Celia Johnson(1908–1982) - English theater and film actress. – Note here and below. translation.
– Do you know that she will have to accept the “living oracles of God”? – Stella said enthusiastically.
– Princess Elizabeth. During the ceremony. She will have to accept the “living oracles of God.” I have no idea who they are. And she will be attended by four Knights of the Order of the Garter. Do you think they really keep an eye on her garters? After all, she does have a lady in charge of the dressing room. Betty Warner told me about this.
Joy noticed Stella's dreamy look. Why doesn’t this event delight her? Why does the thought of the upcoming evening only fill her with horror?
“And you’ll never believe it: during anointing, the myrrh is applied directly to her chest.” For real. It's a pity we'll only hear everything on the radio and won't see how the archbishop touches her.
- Hello, Joy. By God, you look a little washed out. Did you get here on foot? - It was William. Blushing with embarrassment, he timidly extended his hand to her. - Sorry. That’s not what I wanted to say, that is, I also got there on foot. And I was sweating terribly. Much stronger than you. Take a look.
Joy grabbed a tall glass of pink drink from the tray and drank it in one gulp. On that day, more than one Princess Elizabeth offered her life as a gift to the country.
By the time the coronation began, many pink cocktails had been drunk from tall glasses. Joy, eager to stay hydrated in the humidity, downed the glasses one by one. The cocktails tasted little like alcohol, and her mother let her out of sight as she was torn between Toby Jugg's impudent grin. 2
Toby Jugg – main character works by Dennis Wheatley "The Pursuer of Toby Jugg", a military pilot who was seriously wounded and found himself confined to a wheelchair.
The look on Duncan Alleyn's face and the annoyance at his husband, who was clearly enjoying the evening. Therefore, Joy was very surprised to see that the portrait of Princess Elizabeth, hanging on the wall of the dining room, suddenly began to double and seemed to even grin conspiratorially at the sight of Joy’s attempts to walk in a straight line.
For several hours in a row, the hum of many voices, excited by copious drinks, rose and fell, filling the impressive first floor of the villa. Not endowed with the gift of free conversation, Joy became more and more withdrawn into herself. She seems to only succeed in repelling people rather than attracting them. She finally got rid of William by telling him that Mr. Amery wanted to talk to him about some matter. Stella was swallowed up by a circle of admiring naval officers. Rachel and Ginny, two other girls her age, sat in a corner with their twin beaus, their hair shining with brilliantine. Freed from the annoying attention of her peers, Joy became friends with tall glasses.
Noticing that for some reason her glass was empty again, she looked around for the servant. There seemed to be fewer servants, or perhaps it became difficult for her to distinguish them from other people. Giggling to herself, Joy thought they should wear Union Jack jackets. "Union Jackets". Or small crowns.
She vaguely made out the sounds of a gong and the laughing tenor of Mr. Brougham-Scott, who was calling guests to the radio. Leaning against the pillar for a moment, Joy waited for the people in front of her to move forward. Then she can go out onto the terrace and get some fresh air. But the swaying human bodies stood before her like a solid wall.
“Oh my God...” she muttered, “I need some air.”
Joy thought she had said these words mentally, but suddenly someone took her hand and said quietly:
“Then let me help you get out.”
Joy was surprised to find that she had to look up. She rarely had to look up - she was taller than all the Chinese and most of the men at the reception. Joy could barely make out two elongated, serious faces above two tight white collars that were leaning towards her. Marine officer. Or two. She didn't know exactly. Anyway, one of them took her by the arm and led her carefully through the crowd to the terrace.
- Do you want to sit down? Breathe deeply. I'll bring you a glass of water. “Having seated her in a wicker chair, the officer disappeared.
Joy inhaled greedily. fresh air. It was getting dark and fog had descended on the Peak, hiding the villa from the rest of Hong Kong Island. The only signs that she was not alone were the distant hoarse whistles of the barges plying the waters below, the rustling of banyan leaves, and the faintest wisps of garlic and ginger in the still air.
It was this smell that finished off Joy.
“Oh God...” she muttered again, “oh no...”
Looking around, Joy noticed with relief that the last of the guests were disappearing into the room with the radio. Leaning over the railing of the terrace, she vomited for a long time and noisily.
Finally she straightened up, breathing heavily, with damp hair sticking to her temples. Opening her eyes, Joy saw in front of her that naval officer who was handing her a glass of ice water. Joy was speechless. She just looked at him in silent horror, then tilted her face, flushed with embarrassment, towards the glass of water. Having quickly sobered up, she prayed only for the officer to disappear.
- Shall I give you a handkerchief?
Joy kept her face down, frowning at her high-heeled shoes. There was something stuck in her throat that didn’t want to go down, despite all her attempts to swallow.
- Listen, here, take it.
- Please leave.
“I said: please leave.”
If she doesn’t run away now, her mother will catch her here, and the end of the world will begin. Joy considered her options:
you can’t take it anywhere with you;
the shame of her behavior;
Why can't she be like Stella?
what will people think?
- I ask you to. Please leave.
Joy knew how impolite that sounded, but she was afraid that she would be discovered or that God knows what might splash out on her blouse during small talk, so she chose the lesser of two evils.
There was a long pause. Loud exclamations were heard from the dining room.
- I do not think so. I think it's better for you not to be alone just yet.
“Why doesn’t he leave?” – Joy thought.
But the officer continued to stand nearby. She noticed a tiny orange spot on one leg of his immaculate trousers.
- Look, I feel much better now, thank you. And I really want you to leave. I guess I'll go home.
The mother will be furious. But Joy will say that she is sick. And it won't be an outright lie. Only this man will know the truth.
“Let me take you,” he said.
An increasing noise was again heard from the house, and then someone’s shrill, slightly hysterical laughter. Suddenly a jazz melody began to sound and ended just as abruptly.
“Hold on to me,” the officer said. - I'll help you up.
- Please, leave me alone!
Joy felt uneasy, but the feeling of shame quickly passed. She stood up, took a large sip of ice water and hurriedly, slightly staggering, went into the house. With a little luck, she could escape while everyone was listening. But as Joy walked past the living room door, guests began filtering in. Stella walked in the front row with an upset expression on her face and tear-stained eyes.
- Oh, Joy, can you imagine?
- What? – Joy responded, wondering how to quickly pass her by.
- Oh, this damn receiver! It happened to break today! It's incredible that they have one for the whole house. Surely everyone has more than one receiver in their home.
“Don’t worry, dear Stella,” said Duncan Alleyn, tugging at his mustache with one hand and lingering on her shoulder with the other a little longer than his supposedly fatherly attention required. “Someone will immediately bring the receiver from the Marchants’ house, and you won’t miss anything.”
“But we’ll skip the whole beginning.” And we will never hear this again! There may not be another coronation in our lifetime. Oh, this is simply impossible!
Now Stella was crying for real, not paying attention to the guests around her. It is possible that some of them considered the sacred royal ceremony an annoying interruption to this wonderful party.
“Stella, I want to leave,” Joy whispered. – I’m very sorry, but I’m not feeling well.
- But that’s impossible! At least wait until they bring the receiver.
- I'll come see you tomorrow.
Noticing that her parents and other guests were sitting around the silent radio, Joy rushed to the door. Nodding to the servant who let her out of the house, she found herself alone in the humid evening air, listening to the squeak of mosquitoes and a little regretting the man who remained in the house.
Hong Kong expatriates were accustomed to a good life with almost daily parties and dinners, so it was not often possible to meet Europeans on the streets in the mornings. But Joy found herself in the minority, waking up the next morning with a completely clear head after the unfortunate incident with the pink cocktails.
It seemed that everyone living near the peak was suffering from a hangover. Chinese men and women passed silently by in pairs, some with heavy baskets or carts, but not a single European was visible. The whitewashed houses set back from the road were hung with drooping colorful banners, and from the windows hung portraits of a smiling princess, as if tired from the excesses of the previous evening.
As they padded around the teak-floored apartment, she and Bei Ling spoke in whispers so as not to wake Alice and Graham, who were arguing excitedly and confusedly until late into the night. Joy decided it was worth going to the New Territories to take up horse riding. Today, households with bouts of headaches, which will only be aggravated by the humid heat, will lie in an irritated stupor on sofas under the fans. On such a day you should not stay in the city. But Joy was confused by the fact that there was no one who could take her out of the city.
Around ten she approached Stella's house, but all the curtains were drawn, and Joy did not dare to enter. The father she could always count on was unlikely to get up before noon. And she had no one else to turn to. Sitting in a wicker chair by the window, Joy amused herself with the thought of taking the tram into the city center and then catching the train. But she never went there alone, and Bei Ling refused to go with her, realizing that the mistress would be very angry if she found out that the servants had gone for a walk.
- Oh God save the damn queen! – Joy muttered after the retreating back of the servant.
This was not the first time Joy had resented the restrictions in her life, both territorial and physical. When women and children left the colony soon after the Japanese invaded Hong Kong, Joy lived with her mother for some time in Australia, and there she experienced unprecedented freedom. They lived with Alice's sister, Marcella. The doors of her house, which stood right on the ocean shore, were always open to Joy and her many neighbors. Compared to the people of Hong Kong, these people seemed so free and cheerful.
Alice was also at ease there, thriving in the dry, hot climate where everyone spoke her native language and tall, tanned men flirted with her shamelessly. There, Alice's manners seemed the height of sophistication, and her outfits amazed the imagination. In exile, Alice managed to appear exactly as she wanted: a chic, exotic, cosmopolitan woman. In addition, Marcella, being younger than her sister, respected her tastes and style, which was nice. In this favorable atmosphere, Alice was less worried about Joy than usual, calmly sending her to the beach or to a shopping arcade - not at all like in Hong Kong, where she was constantly concerned about the flaws in her daughter’s appearance, her manners and the potential dangers that the girl might face in an uncivilized country.
“I hate my life,” Joy said out loud, giving vent to the thoughts that hung over her like a cloud.
- Ma'am? – Bei Ling stood at the door. - A gentleman wants to see you.
– Asking my mother?
- No, ma'am, you. – She grinned meaningfully.
- Invite him.
Frowning, Joy smoothed her hair and stood up. The last thing she needed right now was company.
The door opened and an unfamiliar man walked in wearing a white short-sleeve shirt and light yellow trousers. Neatly trimmed reddish hair, a long aristocratic face and light blue eyes. Tall, he ducked as he walked through the door, which was unnecessary, probably out of habit. Sailor, Joy thought absently. They always duck in front of doors.
“Miss Leonard...” The man held a straw hat in front of him, clutching it with both hands.
Joy looked at him in a daze, not understanding how he knew her name.
– Edward Ballantyne. Please excuse me for the intrusion. I just wanted... I decided to check how you are.
Looking at the man's face, Joy recognized him with horror and blushed. Until now, she had only seen this face in a double version. She involuntarily raised her hand to her mouth.
– I took the liberty of asking your friend your name and address. Just wanted to make sure you got home safely. And I scolded myself for letting you go alone.
“Well,” Joy answered, stubbornly looking at her feet. - I am good. “You are very kind,” she added after a short silence, realizing that she had been rude the day before.
They stood in silence for a while, and then it dawned on her that he was not going to leave. Joy felt so uneasy that shivers ran down her spine. She had never felt such embarrassment as she had the night before, and now it was returning to her like a haunting smell. Why won't he leave her alone? Will he leave her with her humiliation? Bei Ling hesitated at the door, but Joy deliberately ignored her. She will not offer the guest drinks.
“Actually,” he began, “I wanted to invite you for a walk.” Or play tennis. Our captain has been given special permission to use the courts down in Causeway Bay.
- No, thank you.
– Could I ask you to show me some of the local attractions? I've never been to Hong Kong.
“It’s a shame, but I was just about to leave,” Joy answered, still not daring to look at him.
There was a long pause. He was clearly staring at her. She felt it.
- Anything interesting?
- I'm sorry, what?
Joy could hear her heart pounding. Why doesn't he leave?
– You said you were leaving. Just... I'd like to know... where?
- I'm going horseback riding.
- To ride? Are there horses here?
“Not here,” she said. - At least not on the island. In the New Territories. My father's friend keeps a stable there.
– Do you mind if I go with you? At home I ride a little. And now I really miss it. In fact, I haven't seen a horse for nine months.
He said this with the sadness with which most military men speak about their loved ones. His face seemed to open up, his rather sharp features softened. Involuntarily, Joy thought that he was somehow handsome in an adult way.
But this man saw her disgrace herself on the terrace.
- I have a car. I can give you a ride. Or just follow you, if that's more... convenient.
Joy understood that her mother would be horrified to learn from Bei Ling that Miss Joy had left in a car with an unknown man, but if she had remained under her mother’s thumb all day, fending off her attacks, it would have been much worse.
How delightful it was to rush along the deserted roads with this unfamiliar tall, freckled man, who, without waiting for her awkward words, like other officers, spoke incessantly himself. He talked about his horses in Ireland - it was strange that he did not have an Irish accent - about the vastness of the hunting grounds of his native places, in comparison with which the endless boredom of the confined space of a ship, when crammed into the same people for many months, was unbearable and the same little world.
Joy had never heard a man talk like that before - without resorting to endless fragmentary judgments, like most of the officers with whom she interacted. There was no confusion in Edward's sincere speeches. He spoke like a man who had been deprived of communication for a long time, convulsively spewing out entire sentences, like a drowning man gasping for air. His phrases were interspersed with bursts of loud, guttural laughter. From time to time he stopped, looking at her as if embarrassed by his own incontinence, and fell silent until the next stormy tirade.
Joy found herself laughing too, timidly at first. This unfamiliar man gradually helped her to free up her own self, and by the time they arrived at the stable, Joy was all glowing and laughing, which had never happened to her before. Alice wouldn't recognize her daughter. In fact, Joy didn't recognize herself. She stole glances at the man next to her, timidly looked away when he looked at her, that is, in general she behaved - well, yes - like Stella.
Mr. Foghill said he would let Edward ride. Joy secretly hoped so, and when Edward stood with him in the yard, talking reverently about the famous Gunters 3
Hunter- an English riding horse designed for hunting with dogs.
And agreeing with the superiority of Irish trotters over English ones, the widower lost all his stiffness and even recommended his own horse, a restive bay stallion. Mr. Foghill demanded that Edward take a couple of laps around the arena, checking his position and arms. Apparently he was satisfied with what he saw, and they slowly drove out of the gate, from where the road led into the open area.
At this stage, Joy no longer understood what had come over her. She smiled and nodded all the time, although the unusual noise in her ears drowned out his words. It was hard for her to concentrate on anything, so she was glad to hold the reins, staring at the long gray neck in front of her, which fell and rose in time with the clatter of hooves. Joy felt detached from everything around her and at the same time acutely perceived every detail. For example, Edward's hands. Or freckles. Or the two folds that ran near his mouth when he smiled. She didn’t even notice that her neck was covered with mosquitoes, crawling under the hair gathered at the back of her head and biting into her pale, delicate skin.
But what Joy liked most was that Edward was a good rider. How high and easily he held himself in the saddle, how skillfully his hands pulled the reins without injuring the horse’s mouth. With one hand, from time to time he stroked a horse or swatted a gaping fly. Joy was in the stables with another man she initially liked, a shy banker who was a friend of her father. But one day she saw how, unable to hide his fear, he fidgeted restlessly on his horse as it began to trot, and Joy’s timid infatuation dissipated like smoke in the wind. And she didn’t even let William get close to her. Once you saw another man on horseback, all sympathy for him disappeared. Only now did Joy feel the powerful attraction of a man who could ride well.
– Have you ever been to Scotland? – Edward asked.
- Those damned mosquitoes. – He slapped himself on the neck. – They’ll get it everywhere!
Joy flushed and lowered her eyes. They moved on.
The sky gradually darkened and hung over them, and Joy did not understand whether her clothes were wet from the humid air or sweat, or why blades of grass and seeds were sticking to her skin. This atmosphere seemed to drown out everything around, even the sound of horse hooves, which seemed to be wrapped in flannel. They themselves felt like they were wrapped in a warm, damp blanket. High above them, against the backdrop of Lion Mountain, the buzzards hung like black drops of moisture, as if unable to move. The leaves brushing her boots left traces of moisture, even though it was not raining.
If Edward noticed that Joy's thoughts were jumping randomly from one thing to another, or that she kept flaring up, unable to find words, or that the horse, taking advantage of her absent-mindedness, was eating the bushes, he said nothing. Joy calmed down a bit as they galloped along the road along the rice field, and soon Edward rode up to a roadside shack to buy her a quarter of a melon. And only now did Joy realize that she was looking at him without embarrassment. At one of these moments, Joy realized that her ribbon had come undone and her hair had fallen over her shoulders in wet, tangled strands. But if Edward noticed this, he did not show it, but simply extended his hand with a handkerchief and brushed a strand of hair from her face. This touch affected Joy like an electric shock, and for a long time she could not come to her senses.
“I, Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, become your vassal for life and will honor you and serve you faithfully until my death, protecting you from all sorts of misfortunes. May God help me."
Having risen, he should touch the crown on Her Majesty's head and kiss Her Majesty on the left cheek.
In the same way, the Duke of Gloucester and the Duke of Kent must take the oath in turn.
It was quite a shame, Joy later thought, to meet her future husband on the day that became Princess Elizabeth’s day. Or Queen Elizabeth II, as she was solemnly christened at the end of that day. Despite the importance of this event for both of them, it did not cause - at least for Joy - joyful excitement.
That day foreshadowed rain, and not a wonderful meeting at all. The leaden skies over Hong Kong Bay are swollen with moisture. As Joy strolled slowly through Victoria Peak Park with Stella, Joy clutched a folder of damp sheet music, feeling her armpits slick with sweat and her blouse clinging to her back, which did not add to her monarchical fervor at the thought of a coronation reception at the Brougham-Scott house.
Joy's mother paced restlessly around the house, excited by the presence of her father, who had returned from another trip to China. Each time his appearance seemed to cause a sharp drop in Alice's mood, and Joy no longer hoped to avoid her mother's displeasure.
Don't you dare wear that! - She said to her daughter, frowning and pursing her bright red lips into a dissatisfied grimace.
Joy kept her eyes on the door, eagerly awaiting Stella's appearance. Then she wouldn't have to go to the Brougham-Scott villa with her parents. Joy lied to them that the owners asked them to bring the sheet music in advance. Even walking with her parents made her seasick.
You look so homely, honey. Again you put on high heels and you will tower over everyone.
That familiar word “sweetheart” was supposed to sweeten Alice’s unpleasant remarks.
I will be sitting.
It is impossible to sit all evening.
Then I'll bend my knees.
You should wear a wide belt. He will shorten you.
But it will crash into the ribs.
I don't understand why you should be so stubborn. I'm just trying to help you. And you don't even seem to be trying to look attractive.
Oh, mom, I don't care. And no one cares about this. It's unlikely that anyone will pay attention to me. Everyone will listen to the princess say an oath or something like that.
“Just leave me alone,” Joy begged in her heart. “God forbid I have to listen to your barbs all evening.”
Well, I don't care. People will think that I brought up in you a disdainful attitude towards things.
It was very important to Alice what people thought. “Everything is in plain sight in Hong Kong,” she liked to say. Someone is always looking at you, someone is gossiping about you. “What a tiny and boring world we live in,” Joy wanted to answer. But she was silent, although it was true.
The father will undoubtedly get drunk and kiss all the women on the lips instead of the cheek, causing them to look around nervously for fear that they themselves have given him a reason.
Jojo Moyes
Happy steps in the rain
Copyright © 2002 by Jojo Moyes
All rights reserved
This edition is published by arrangement with Curtis Brown UK and The Van Lear Agency LLC
© I. Ivanchenko, translation, 2016
© Edition in Russian, design. LLC "Publishing Group "Azbuka-Atticus"", 2016
Publishing House Inostranka®
* * *Charles Arthur and Betty McKee
The Archbishop is then to kiss the Queen's right hand. After which the Duke of Edinburgh must ascend the steps of the throne and, having removed his crown, kneel before Her Majesty, place his folded hands in her palms and pronounce the words of the oath:
“I, Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, become your vassal for life and will honor you and serve you faithfully until my death, protecting you from all sorts of misfortunes. May God help me."
Having risen, he should touch the crown on Her Majesty's head and kiss Her Majesty on the left cheek.
In the same way, the Duke of Gloucester and the Duke of Kent must take the oath in turn.
From the order of the coronation service ceremony, 1953It was quite a shame, Joy later thought, to meet her future husband on the day that became Princess Elizabeth’s day. Or Queen Elizabeth II, as she was solemnly christened at the end of that day. Despite the importance of this event for both of them, it did not cause, at least for Joy, joyful excitement.
That day foreshadowed rain, and not a wonderful meeting at all. The leaden skies over Hong Kong Bay are swollen with moisture. As Joy strolled slowly through Victoria Peak Park with Stella, Joy clutched a folder of damp sheet music, feeling her armpits slick with sweat and her blouse clinging to her back, which did not add to her monarchical fervor at the thought of a coronation reception at the Brougham-Scott house.
Joy's mother paced restlessly around the house, excited by the presence of her father, who had returned from another trip to China. Each time his appearance seemed to cause a sharp drop in Alice's mood, and Joy no longer hoped to avoid her mother's displeasure.
- Don't you dare wear that! – Frowning and pursing her bright red lips into a dissatisfied grimace, she told her daughter.
Joy kept her eyes on the door, eagerly awaiting Stella's appearance. Then she wouldn't have to go to the Brougham-Scott villa with her parents. Joy lied to them that the owners asked them to bring the sheet music in advance. Even walking with her parents made her seasick.
“You look so homely, honey.” Again you put on high heels and you will tower over everyone.
That familiar word “sweetheart” was supposed to sweeten Alice’s unpleasant remarks.
- I will be sitting.
“It’s impossible to sit all evening.”
“Then I’ll bend my knees.”
“You should wear a wide belt.” He will shorten you.
- But it will cut into the ribs.
“I don’t understand why you should be so stubborn.” I'm just trying to help you. And you don't even seem to be trying to look attractive.
- Oh, mom, I don’t care. And no one cares about this. It's unlikely that anyone will pay attention to me. Everyone will listen to the princess say an oath or something like that.
“Just leave me alone,” Joy begged in her heart. “God forbid I have to listen to your barbs all evening.”
- Well, I don’t care. People will think that I brought up in you a disdainful attitude towards things.
It was very important to Alice what people thought. “Everything is in plain sight in Hong Kong,” she liked to say. Someone is always looking at you, someone is gossiping about you. “What a tiny and boring world we live in,” Joy wanted to answer. But she was silent, although it was true.
The father will undoubtedly get drunk and kiss all the women on the lips instead of the cheek, causing them to look around nervously for fear that they themselves have given him a reason. Having relaxed a little, he will later yell at Alice. A good wife wouldn't stop her husband from having a little fun after a few weeks of exhausting work in China, because we all know what it's like to deal with Asians! It changed a lot after the Japanese invasion. But they didn’t talk about it then.
The Brougham-Scotts were there. And the Marchants, and the Dickinsons, and the Alleyns. And all the other married couples who belonged to a special class that lived between the Peak and Robinson Road (in those days, the "middle tier" was actually the clerk class). They met at parties at the Hong Kong Cricket Club, at the races in Happy Valley, and sailed together on junks to outlying islands, drinking sherry and lamenting mosquitoes, buying milk, property prices and the shocking ignorance of the Chinese. They talked about England, about how they missed it, about those coming from there now, about their boring, uninteresting life and about how dull England seemed to them then, although the war had ended a long time ago. But most of all they gossiped about each other, and the military used a special language, seasoned with soldier jokes, merchants mercilessly reviled their competitors, and women, competing in causticity, joined first one group, then another.
Jojo Moyes
Happy steps in the rain
...Charles Arthur and Betty McKee
The Archbishop is then to kiss the Queen's right hand. After which the Duke of Edinburgh must ascend the steps of the throne and, having removed his crown, kneel before Her Majesty, place his folded hands in her palms and pronounce the words of the oath:
“I, Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, become your vassal for life and will honor you and serve you faithfully until my death, protecting you from all sorts of misfortunes. May God help me."
Having risen, he should touch the crown on Her Majesty's head and kiss Her Majesty on the left cheek.
In the same way, the Duke of Gloucester and the Duke of Kent must take the oath in turn.
From the order of the coronation service ceremony, 1953
It was quite a shame, Joy later thought, to meet her future husband on the day that became Princess Elizabeth’s day. Or Queen Elizabeth II, as she was solemnly christened at the end of that day. Despite the importance of this event for both of them, it did not cause - at least for Joy - joyful excitement.
That day foreshadowed rain, and not a wonderful meeting at all. The leaden skies over Hong Kong Bay are swollen with moisture. As Joy strolled slowly through Victoria Peak Park with Stella, Joy clutched a folder of damp sheet music, feeling her armpits slick with sweat and her blouse clinging to her back, which did not add to her monarchical fervor at the thought of a coronation reception at the Brougham-Scott house.
Joy's mother paced restlessly around the house, excited by the presence of her father, who had returned from another trip to China. Each time his appearance seemed to cause a sharp drop in Alice's mood, and Joy no longer hoped to avoid her mother's displeasure.
Don't you dare wear that! - She said to her daughter, frowning and pursing her bright red lips into a dissatisfied grimace.
Joy kept her eyes on the door, eagerly awaiting Stella's appearance. Then she wouldn't have to go to the Brougham-Scott villa with her parents. Joy lied to them that the owners asked them to bring the sheet music in advance. Even walking with her parents made her seasick.
You look so homely, honey. Again you put on high heels and you will tower over everyone.
That familiar word “sweetheart” was supposed to sweeten Alice’s unpleasant remarks.
I will be sitting.
It is impossible to sit all evening.
Then I'll bend my knees.
You should wear a wide belt. He will shorten you.
But it will crash into the ribs.
I don't understand why you should be so stubborn. I'm just trying to help you. And you don't even seem to be trying to look attractive.
Oh, mom, I don't care. And no one cares about this. It's unlikely that anyone will pay attention to me. Everyone will listen to the princess say an oath or something like that.
“Just leave me alone,” Joy begged in her heart. “God forbid I have to listen to your barbs all evening.”
Well, I don't care. People will think that I brought up in you a disdainful attitude towards things.
It was very important to Alice what people thought. “Everything is in plain sight in Hong Kong,” she liked to say. Someone is always looking at you, someone is gossiping about you. “What a tiny and boring world we live in,” Joy wanted to answer. But she was silent, although it was true.
The father will undoubtedly get drunk and kiss all the women on the lips instead of the cheek, causing them to look around nervously for fear that they themselves have given him a reason. Having relaxed a little, he will later yell at Alice. A good wife wouldn't stop her husband from having a little fun after a few weeks of exhausting work in China, because we all know what it's like to deal with Asians! It changed a lot after the Japanese invasion. But they didn’t talk about it then.
The Brougham-Scotts were there. And the Marchants, and the Dickinsons, and the Alleyns. And all the other married couples who belonged to a special class that lived between the Peak and Robinson Road (in those days, the "middle tier" was actually the clerk class). They met at parties at the Hong Kong Cricket Club, at the races in Happy Valley, and sailed together on junks to outlying islands, drinking sherry and lamenting mosquitoes, buying milk, property prices and the shocking ignorance of the Chinese. They talked about England, about how they missed it, about those coming from there now, about their boring, uninteresting life and about how dull England seemed to them then, although the war had ended a long time ago. But most of all they gossiped about each other, and the military used a special language, seasoned with soldier jokes, merchants mercilessly reviled their competitors, and women, competing in causticity, joined first one group, then another.
But the worst thing was that there was William, who never missed a single gathering, with a sloping chin and sparse blond hair, which went well with his squeaky voice. He used to put a damp hand around Joy’s waist and, without asking her consent, lead her somewhere. Out of politeness, pretending to listen, she looked from above the top of his head, noticing new bald patches.
Do you think she's worried? - Stella asked.
Her shiny hair was gathered at the back of her head. Not a single stray hair frizzed in the humid air, unlike Joy's hair, which tended to fluff up as soon as it was pulled into a bun. When Joy pinned her hair up, her maid Bei Ling would frown and grumble, as if Joy was doing it on purpose.
Princess. I'd be worried. Just think about all these witnesses to the ceremony...
Lately, Stella, who had been sporting a red skirt, white blouse and blue cardigan for the upcoming celebrations, seemed to Joy to be showing some kind of unhealthy interest in Princess Elizabeth. The friend discussed the princess's jewelry, her outfits, the weight of the crown, even how her husband was probably jealous of her title, since he himself would not become king. Joy suspected that Stella was trying to identify with the princess.
Well, not everyone will see it. Many, like us, will only listen to the report on the radio.
Both of them stepped aside to let the car pass, having time to glance into it to see if there were any acquaintances there.
But the princess may still mix up the words. I would have mixed it up. I probably would have stammered.
Joy doubted this, since Stella was the picture of a real lady in almost every way. Unlike Joy, Stella had the height of a young lady, and she wore elegant clothes that a Tsim Sha Tsui dressmaker made for her in the latest Parisian styles. Stella never faltered or sulked in company and could chat tirelessly with an endless series of officers who were forced to attend receptions to take their minds off their imminent deployment to the Korean War.
Do you think we'll stay until the end?
Until the end of the ceremony? - Joy gasped, kicking a stone. - This will take more than one hour, everyone will get drunk and start gossiping. And my mother will start flirting with Duncan Alleyn and talking about how William Farquharson is related to the Jardines and has every chance of marrying a girl of my social standing.
I would say that he is not tall enough to match your position in society. - Stella also made jokes sometimes.
I specifically wore high heels.
Okay, Joy. This is great. We will have a new queen.
What is there to be particularly happy about? - Joy shrugged. - We even live with her in different countries.
But she is still our queen. And almost the same age as us! Just think! This is the biggest reception in many years. Everyone will gather there.
But there will be nothing new there. It's no fun going to parties where the same people are always there.
Ah, Joy, why set yourself up for boredom? Lots of new people to talk to.
But I have nothing to talk to them about. They are only interested in stores and rags and who harmed whom.
Excuse me,” Stella said mockingly, “but what else is there to talk about?”
I don't mean you. You know what I mean. There must be many other things in life. Don't you want to go to America? Or to England? Travel around the world?
I have already visited many places. - (Stella's father was a ship captain.) - Honestly, it seems to me that people everywhere are interested in the same thing. In Singapore it was one big cocktail party. Even mom got bored. One way or another, people are not always the same. There are officers. There will be a lot of them there today. And you probably won’t meet everyone.
A lot of officers had gathered. The wide terrace of the Brougham-Scott Villa, which had commanded a magnificent view of Hong Kong Bay in those rare moments when the fog cleared from the summit of Victoria Peak, was now a sea of white. Inside, under fans whirring like huge propellers, Chinese servants in soft shoes, also dressed in white jackets, silently scurried among the guests, serving drinks with ice in tall glasses on silver trays. The hum of voices either drowned out the music or was drowned out by it, and the music itself seemed to fade away in the suffocating, humid heat. The Union Jack pennants hanging from the ceiling dangled like wet rags, barely swayed by the artificial breeze.