Wednesday 21st June 1978
Halfway up, where Linda's route met the more level path around the hill, she paused for breath, turning to look over the estate. The land had been farmed by Peverils for five centuries, and many visitors assumed it had always looked as it did now: open grassland cropped short by sheep, deer and, occasionally, cows. She'd seen pictures taken during the last war, though, when the flatter land to either side of the river had been ploughed up and when the grass in front of the Lodge itself had been turned over to vegetable plots. Even earlier photographs showed the Lodge as it had been when Kate first arrived, with a carefully tended croquet lawn and bowling green, the livestock kept out by ornamental iron railings. Those of course had been melted down in 1939, when war had been declared, although Edward's father had carefully stored the gateposts in one of the outbuildings, where they still stood nearly forty years later.
The WiP is definitely progressing, incidentally.
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