Read Online A Dismal Thing To Do by Charlotte MacLeod - Free Book Online Page A

Fewter, and no doubt a few more would have their ears glued to the receiver as soon as they heard two longs and a short ring. He and Janet spent a fair portion of the drive thinking up interesting explanations for her battered condition. None of them would fool Bert for long, but Bert Would have sense enough not to say so. Living with Annabelle, he’d had plenty of practice keeping his mouth shut.
    This was not to say Bert didn’t adore Annabelle and so did Madoc, up to a point. They dawdled along so they’d arrive just before noon, timing it neatly so Annabelle could go into her whirlwind act, producing a Thanksgiving feast out of the old cookstove in about three minutes flat and getting them all sat down to it before Bert had got the top off the rum bottle to give himself and Madoc the ritual snort. They’d have been just as well fed if they’d arrived two hours earlier, but the effect wouldn’t have been so exciting.
    For a while there was little conversation except of the “This is delicious” and “Any more in the pot?” variety. Annabelle expected her cuisine to be taken seriously, and it was worth the attention. When they’d got down to the tea and pie stage, though, it was she herself who raised the question.
    “But you still haven’t told us what you’re doing here on a weekday. Don’t tell us you’ve run out of crooks to chase. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw your car pull into the yard.”
    This was a doubtful premise. Annabelle wasn’t many inches taller than Janet, but three kids and a lot of good cooking had increased her girth to about twice her sister-in-law’s. She amplified on this theme for a while, then Bert gave her a big kiss on the mouth to staunch the flow and give Janet a chance to start her story.
    It was quite a yarn, starting out with Muriel’s tale of a good pine washstand going cheap and winding up in the barn of a poor old widow with a shaky ladder up to the loft.
    “And she actually let you climb it, knowing the state it was in?” cried Annabelle. “You should have sued her!”
    “A poor old widow? Besides, her eyesight was so bad she couldn’t have seen how rickety the ladder was. I could, and I knew I was taking a risk, so it was my own stupid fault. I figured with a heavy coat and boots and all, I’d be well enough padded not to hurt myself if it did break, which just shows you how wrong a person can be. Let that be a warning to all of us,” she added with a meaning look at her youngest nephew, who was given to putting on his father’s Loyal Order of Owls regalia and hurling himself off the top of the henhouse, shouting, “Owlman to the rescue!”
    “What gripes me is that I still don’t have a washstand and my mother-in-law’s arriving a week from today. You don’t suppose Marion has one over at the Mansion she wouldn’t mind selling?” Janet knew the mere mention of Marion’s name would set Annabelle off for at least another hour while the boys went back to school for the afternoon session and Bert and Madoc adjourned to the barn to see how the livestock were doing and maybe exchange a few words about the Grouses and the McLumbers.
    On any normal day, it would be taken for granted Janet would help Annabelle clear the table and cope with the dishes. She did make one feeble attempt to pick up some teacups, then stopped, holding on to the back of a chair. “Guess I’d better go lie down for a while.”
    Annabelle was instantly at her side. “Do you want to go upstairs to bed?”
    “Why don’t you just help me into my nightgown and bathrobe? Then I can lie down here on the couch. If I can’t help, at least we can visit.” So Annabelle rambled on in her warm, quick voice as she tidied the kitchen and then sat down to darn a sweater of Bert’s that he’d snagged on the cream separator, and Janet smiled and put in a word edgewise now and men. Between times, she nodded off, knowing Annabelle wouldn’t be a whit offended if she