Read Online 4 Death at the Happiness Club by Cecilia Peartree - Free Book Online
Authors: Cecilia Peartree
Ads: Link
Caroline came back to inspect the sleeping arrangements. He arranged a sleeping bag on a mat at one end of the tent.
'There!' he said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster. 'Are you OK at that side?'
She peered into the tent from outside. 'It's a bit small, isn't it?'
Just in time to avoid all-out sibling warfare Christopher bit back a comment about how large it had seemed when he was carrying it single-handed all the way here.
'It'll be nice and cosy,' he said instead. 'Even if it rains we won't get cold. And look, the ground-sheet's attached to the tent so there isn't a gap.'
'What if there isn't enough oxygen for the two of us?' she enquired.
'I don't think it's completely air-tight,' he said optimistically.
'Where are you going to do the cooking?' she said.
'Um - just outside the tent?' he suggested. 'It's only one of those instant dried meals anyway. Paella, I think. All you have to do is boil a kettle.'
It was when he found they had abandoned the kettle on the rocks at Aberdour that things took a nasty turn.
'We'll get a new one tomorrow,' he promised.
'But what about tonight?'
'Let's go for fish and chips,' he suggested.
Caroline thought about that option for a few moments. He held his breath. Please let her agree to it.
'I could go to the chip shop and bring it back,' she said suddenly. 'After all, you've done all the work so far. Carrying the tent. Putting it up in the rain. I'm sorry I haven't been nicer.'
She smiled at him.
Later he realised he should have been more suspicious, but of course he usually left that sort of thing to Amaryllis, who had years of experience behind her and was always on the alert.
He busied himself around the tent - not that there was much to do once he had set up the little table in between their sleeping bags and been to the communal tap to get some water in a bottle. He took out the map and stared at it. They had only come a few miles since he had met Caroline on Inverkeithing station. It was pathetic - they were only going to get as far as Kirkcaldy, and then only if they caught the bus again. Was there a world record for taking the longest possible time to walk the Fife Coastal Path? Maybe he could write a book about it - 'The Fife Coastal Path by Bus - well, the first few miles of it anyway'.
It was a while since Caroline had gone off. He hoped she hadn't got lost on the way. Or perhaps it was more likely that she had been tempted back into the fairground. It could be dangerous in the evening, though, especially for someone vulnerable like her. Maybe he should have gone with her. But he thought she would gain some self-respect by doing this small thing on her own.
He took out a postcard with a picture of Aberdour Castle. He had thought of sending it to Amaryllis with some positive message about the joys of walking with his sister, but that now seemed like such a distortion of the truth that he couldn't bring himself to do it. He put away the postcard again. Maybe he would find a suitable one in Kirkcaldy, assuming they ever got there. A picture of a derelict linoleum factory or something. Amaryllis would appreciate that.
Still no sign of Caroline. By this time he was standing outside in the rain watching the campsite entrance. If he walked towards town, he might bump into her. But there was always potential for disaster in that sort of maneouvre. She would find an alternative way back in, and they would wander around for ages trying to find each other, by which time the fish and chips would be stone cold.
At last! Caroline, looking oddly shapeless in Christopher's old waterproofs, came into view. She was carrying a supermarket bag. He hoped she had actually got the fish supper he was looking forward to, and not something random she had seen in a shop window that would turn out to need heating up in an oven.
As she approached, she took a brown paper parcel out of the bag and held it up triumphantly.
'Fantastic!' said Christopher. He was so relieved that
'There!' he said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster. 'Are you OK at that side?'
She peered into the tent from outside. 'It's a bit small, isn't it?'
Just in time to avoid all-out sibling warfare Christopher bit back a comment about how large it had seemed when he was carrying it single-handed all the way here.
'It'll be nice and cosy,' he said instead. 'Even if it rains we won't get cold. And look, the ground-sheet's attached to the tent so there isn't a gap.'
'What if there isn't enough oxygen for the two of us?' she enquired.
'I don't think it's completely air-tight,' he said optimistically.
'Where are you going to do the cooking?' she said.
'Um - just outside the tent?' he suggested. 'It's only one of those instant dried meals anyway. Paella, I think. All you have to do is boil a kettle.'
It was when he found they had abandoned the kettle on the rocks at Aberdour that things took a nasty turn.
'We'll get a new one tomorrow,' he promised.
'But what about tonight?'
'Let's go for fish and chips,' he suggested.
Caroline thought about that option for a few moments. He held his breath. Please let her agree to it.
'I could go to the chip shop and bring it back,' she said suddenly. 'After all, you've done all the work so far. Carrying the tent. Putting it up in the rain. I'm sorry I haven't been nicer.'
She smiled at him.
Later he realised he should have been more suspicious, but of course he usually left that sort of thing to Amaryllis, who had years of experience behind her and was always on the alert.
He busied himself around the tent - not that there was much to do once he had set up the little table in between their sleeping bags and been to the communal tap to get some water in a bottle. He took out the map and stared at it. They had only come a few miles since he had met Caroline on Inverkeithing station. It was pathetic - they were only going to get as far as Kirkcaldy, and then only if they caught the bus again. Was there a world record for taking the longest possible time to walk the Fife Coastal Path? Maybe he could write a book about it - 'The Fife Coastal Path by Bus - well, the first few miles of it anyway'.
It was a while since Caroline had gone off. He hoped she hadn't got lost on the way. Or perhaps it was more likely that she had been tempted back into the fairground. It could be dangerous in the evening, though, especially for someone vulnerable like her. Maybe he should have gone with her. But he thought she would gain some self-respect by doing this small thing on her own.
He took out a postcard with a picture of Aberdour Castle. He had thought of sending it to Amaryllis with some positive message about the joys of walking with his sister, but that now seemed like such a distortion of the truth that he couldn't bring himself to do it. He put away the postcard again. Maybe he would find a suitable one in Kirkcaldy, assuming they ever got there. A picture of a derelict linoleum factory or something. Amaryllis would appreciate that.
Still no sign of Caroline. By this time he was standing outside in the rain watching the campsite entrance. If he walked towards town, he might bump into her. But there was always potential for disaster in that sort of maneouvre. She would find an alternative way back in, and they would wander around for ages trying to find each other, by which time the fish and chips would be stone cold.
At last! Caroline, looking oddly shapeless in Christopher's old waterproofs, came into view. She was carrying a supermarket bag. He hoped she had actually got the fish supper he was looking forward to, and not something random she had seen in a shop window that would turn out to need heating up in an oven.
As she approached, she took a brown paper parcel out of the bag and held it up triumphantly.
'Fantastic!' said Christopher. He was so relieved that
Similar Books
