Read Online Brought to Book by Anthea Fraser - Free Book Online Page B

don’t eat much at midday, and will be more than happy to sit with you over a glass of wine.’
    Meriel glanced doubtfully at Rona, who didn’t meet her eyes. Best to let them sort this out by themselves. She finished her sherry and set down her glass.
    â€˜I wonder if you’d excuse me for a few minutes? I think Gus should have a run before lunch.’
    â€˜Yes, of course.’ Meriel’s thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
    â€˜I’ll be back by twelve-thirty.’
    Rona snapped her fingers at the dog, who rose at once and trotted with her to the door. Collecting her jacket from the hall chair, she fastened his lead and let them out of the house.
    Damn the man! she thought vehemently. Not only did he seem to be trying to keep an eye on her, but his arrival had prevented her from questioning Meriel about the code. What possible reason could there be for it? She’d now have to contain her curiosity until after lunch.
    She strode briskly down the drive and turned left at the gate, away from the village towards the open countryside. Since this was a main road Gus could not run free, and they set off sedately along the footpath, which, in any case, petered out after a few yards.
    The wind was still strong, though not as biting as it had been, and the air was redolent with country smells that had the dog’s nose twitching. As Rona’s thoughts sifted through what she’d learned that morning, she regretted having left her notebook on the table. Would Justin Grant look at it? Not in front of Meriel, she decided. Even if he did, her rapid hieroglyphics would be indecipherable. As, unfortunately, might also be true of Theo’s diaries.
    The chimes of the village clock were borne to her on the wind: a quarter past twelve. Time to retrace her steps.
    Justin was charm itself over lunch, sitting, as he’d requested, with a glass of white wine in front of him. Nevertheless, his presence cast a blight over the meal, since the women felt self-conscious eating while he was not. The individually baked quiches and delicious herby salad were presumably prepared by Cecile, and Rona wondered whimsically if she’d consider changing her employment.
    â€˜Theo was a great chap,’ Justin volunteered suddenly, swirling the wine in his glass. ‘One of the best.’
    Rona noted Meriel’s puzzled glance.
    â€˜Oh?’ she said invitingly.
    â€˜We saw a fair bit of each other, after he and Meriel got together. Played the odd game of golf and so on, while the girls nattered or went shopping.’
    So there
was
a wife in the background. ‘Do you live nearby, Mr Grant?’
    â€˜Justin, please. Yes, we’re just a couple of villages down the road.’
    Lemon mousse was served as dessert, followed by coffee, in which, after a glance at his watch, Justin agreed to join them. ‘I suppose you’ve pretty well finished for today,’ he commented, as they rose from the table.
    â€˜Far from it,’ Meriel informed him. ‘Which is why Rona stayed for lunch.’
    He hesitated, then said reluctantly, ‘Well, I’m afraid I must leave you to it. I have an NHS surgery at two.’
    He and Rona nodded their farewells. He’d obviously have been happier were she not staying on in his absence, and she was uncharitably glad that, despite having taken the trouble to drive out here, he’d been unable to sit in on any part of the interview. Meriel, returning from seeing him out, said apologetically, ‘I’m so sorry; I can’t imagine why he turned up like that.’
    Rona smiled diplomatically. ‘He mentioned the NHS; is he a doctor?’
    â€˜A consultant, actually. Ear, nose and throat, and highly regarded, so they tell me.’
    â€˜Where’s his practice?’
    â€˜In Stokely, but one day a week he sees NHS patients at the hospital. I must say he’s cutting it a bit fine, to be back there for two. He’s a poppet