Read Online The Tenderness of Wolves by Stef Penney - Free Book Online

‘Mama would be happier without the guests.’
    ‘Mm.’
    ‘And Susannah is fine. It’s an exciting diversion from the usual run of things. Although I found her today on the point of telling Mr Moody about our cousins and I almost lost my temper. I’m not sure why. It’s none of his business, is it?’ After a pause she adds, though slightly ashamed of it, ‘I think she was trying to impress him. Not that she needs to try.’
    Her father smiles. ‘I expect she was. It’s not often that she gets looked up to.’
    Maria laughs shortly. ‘What are you saying? She is nothing but looked up to, as far as I can tell.’
    ‘Admired in one sense, yes. But not regarded in the way people regard you, Mamie, with a certain awe.’
    He gives her a look. Maria smiles, feeling a blush flare over her cheeks. She likes the thought of being regarded with awe.
    ‘I didn’t mean to flatter you.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I am not at all flattered by being compared to Niagara Falls or the Heights of Abraham.’
    ‘Well, just as long as you’re not …’
    Maria watches her father climb the stairs–stiffly, which means he is suffering with his joints. It is awful to watch your parents age and know that pains and frailties are only going to accumulate in the body, building up until it fails completely. Maria has already developed a rather cynical outlook on life, probably another by-product of having a beautiful sister. Who has cast her usual, entirely thoughtless spell over Mr Moody.
    Not that Maria is at all interested in him for herself. Not at all. But, just occasionally, it would be nice to think that she stood a chance.

 
    It is becoming clear to me that I am going to have to do something. After Mackinley leaves I pace the kitchen until Angus returns, and I don’t have to tell him that Francis has still not come back. I tell him the fishing rods are all here, and that I hid one. Now he too looks uneasy.
    ‘You must go and look for him.’
    ‘It’s been less than three days. He’s not a child.’
    ‘He could have had an accident. It’s cold. He hasn’t taken any blankets.’
    Angus thinks, then says he will go up to Swallow Lake tomorrow. I am so relieved I go and embrace him, only to meet with a stiff and unyielding response. He simply waits for me to detach myself, and then turns away as though nothing has happened.
    Our marriage seemed to work as long as I didn’t think about it. Now, I don’t know, the more I worry about other people the less they seem to like it. When I thought of nothing but myself I only had to snap my fingers and men did whatever I wanted. Then I try to become a better person and look where it’s got me: my own husband turning away and refusing to meet my eyes. Or maybe it is none of those things, and is simply to do with age–as a woman gets older she loses the ability to charm and persuade, and there is nothing that can be done about it.
    ‘I could come with you.’
    ‘Don’t be silly.’
    ‘I can’t stand this waiting. What if something’s … happened?’
    Angus sighs, his shoulders hunched like an old man’s. ‘Rhu …’ he breathes out the old endearment, which causes a small tremor inside me. ‘I’m sure he is all right. He will be back soon.’
    I nod, touched by the endearment. In fact, I seize at it like a lifebelt–although, I think afterwards, if I am really still his ‘rhu’, his dear, why does he not look at me when he says it?
    As the light fades, I go for a walk, skirt pockets bulging. At least that is what I tell Angus; whether he believes me is anyone’s guess. At this time of day everyone in Dove River sits down to eat, as predictable as a herd of cattle, so no one will be outside or anywhere they shouldn’t be. Nobody but me.
    I thought about this most of the day, and decided that evening was the best time. I could have waited till dawn, but I don’t want to leave it any longer. The river is fast and high–there have been rains to the north. But the rock from