Read Online Guilt Edged by Judith Cutler - Free Book Online

a scoundrel – goes round knocking on old ladies’ doors and offering to take junk off their hands,’ Griff, still in his chair, hissed – but not so loudly that any other patient or visitor might hear.
    I almost hung my head. ‘I felt sorry for him.’ What a good job I hadn’t mentioned Rob’s hint that I might do an illicit repair for him – presumably splitting the profit.
    â€˜That’s his stock-in-trade, sweet one – making dear old ladies feel they’d better sell him something cheap so he can feed his starving children … Oh, so long as you didn’t buy anything – you didn’t, did you?’ he shot at me.
    â€˜No. But I learned something. About horses.’ Taking his hand, I told him all about the visitor we’d had on Tuesday.
    â€˜And you reckon there’s a plague of forgeries? You haven’t much in the way of evidence, my love.’
    â€˜No. And I don’t want any. You can hardly call it a plague, and even if it were it’s nothing to do with Tripp and Townend. Not our area. Not our period. I’ve got better fish to fry. But what do I do if Mrs Thingy comes back?’
    â€˜Easy. Tell her you’ve spoken to your partner and in these trying financial times we can’t help her. Tell her to try an auction house. She might get more than she asked you for – which we certainly wouldn’t offer anyway, of course.’
    â€˜Quite.’
    A nurse stopped in front of him. ‘Griff, if I’ve told you once today about not crossing your legs I’ve told you a dozen times. You. Must. Not. Nor when you get home. OK?’ He nodded first at Griff and then at me. I writhed, as if I’d done something wrong myself.
    As for Griff, he waited till the man’s back was turned and pulled a naughty schoolboy’s face. I could have done handsprings – this was the Griff I knew and loved.
    After a much more sensible supper than the previous evening’s, I had a long silent conversation with Tim the Bear. In the end, I shrugged; yes, I probably ought to phone Morris, oughtn’t I? Griff had carefully not remarked on the fact that Morris’s name didn’t appear on any of the messages accompanying flowers or the get-well cards. All the time, however, the words
sin of omission
thumped oddly but ominously round my head.
    I left a cheerful message on Morris’s voicemail and texted him for good measure. What about an email? Between us we agreed to give Morris some time to respond. If I’d heard nothing by the morning, then, once I knew Griff was still making good progress, I might just email him.
    Â 
    Griff would be freed from more tubes today, he told me with a chuckle over the phone on Friday morning. There was even a rumour that he’d start climbing stairs when the physios were free. I could have sung and danced my way round the cottage. In fact, I did. So there was no reason not to contact Morris straightaway, except for some forty-odd emails popping into the in-box. Most were work, so since it was only a few minutes past seven I could ignore them for another hour. One, however, was from Brian at Baker’s Auction House, so simply because I was feeling nosy I opened it.
    It was pretty short. Would I care to pop in for a coffee early next week, when there was a nice breathing space before the next sale?
    Puzzled, I replied that I’d love to, but it was dependent on when Griff was released from hospital, when I’d be in a sort of purdah for a bit until he was well enough to be left alone.
    My palms sweated: how much of an invalid would he be? I’d never nursed anyone and didn’t want to get things wrong. Medication! I knew he’d have to take lots of tablets: what if I got them wrong? What if after all he’d been through I let him die on my watch? The bright sun was shut out as this blanket of responsibility fell on me.
    This was something no amount of silent