Read Online Death Comes First by Hilary Bonner - Free Book Online Page B

concern was only for his sons, not his daughter  . . .
    Joyce felt as if she was going around in circles, getting nowhere. Part of her wanted to confront her father and demand to know what he had done that might cause Charlie to write such a letter. But she knew it was pointless. Henry would tell her not to torment herself, that there was absolutelynothing to worry about – all the usual platitudes. The one thing he would never do was treat her as an adult and an equal and divulge whatever he might know on the subject. If she wanted answers, she would have to come up with a more devious approach.
    The silence was shattered by the sound of the front door opening and voices in the hall. Joyce glanced up at the clock on the wall: ten past four. Molly and Fred were home from school, delivered to the door by Henry’s driver. Unlike other mothers, Joyce didn’t have to worry about doing the school run; her father saw to it she was cosseted in that as in everything.
    She sprang to her feet and hid Charlie’s letter and the two envelopes under the bread bin, then made ready to greet her two younger children with the smiling hug they would expect.
    As usual, Fred’s first words as he bounded into the kitchen and flung himself at her were, ‘What’s for tea, Mum?’
    Tall for his age with floppy dirty-blond hair like his dad’s, Fred sniffed the air theatrically.
    ‘I can’t smell anything,’ he said.
    Joyce was a good cook and enjoyed cooking. On school days she always served the children’s evening meal at five, but she’d been so preoccupied by the letter she had completely forgotten about food.
    ‘I decided we’d treat ourselves and order in a pizza,’ she said, thinking on her feet.
    Fred’s face split into a wide gap-toothed grin that was the image of his father’s – except that his father hadn’t had gaps in his teeth. Or not by the time Joyce met him, anyway.
    ‘Wow! On a school night. Cool.’ Then his expression turned thoughtful. ‘It’s not my birthday, and I haven’t doneanything good, I don’t think. Well, not particularly good. Why the special treat? Has Molly done something good?’
    His big sister nudged him. She took after her mother and was small, dark and pale skinned.
    ‘What?’ Fred demanded.
    ‘Think before you speak, you little monster,’ said Molly, nudging him again.
    ‘What?’ said Fred, frowning.
    ‘You know Mum gets sad sometimes. She’s missing Dad. She doesn’t always want to cook like she used to.’
    Fred stared at Joyce with big eyes full of remorse. ‘Sorry, Mum.’
    ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Joyce. ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. Your mum’s been lazy today, that’s all.’
    She wondered what she had done to be blessed with children so perceptive and sensitive to others’ needs. Unlike his elder brother, who seemed to have inherited the Tanner gene for impenetrable inscrutability, Fred’s every emotion was reflected in his face. There had been a time when Mark was open and unguarded too, and in light of Charlie’s letter Joyce couldn’t help wondering what manner of indoctrination into the Tanner way of life he’d been subjected to at the hands of his grandfather, particularly since Charlie’s death. A frisson of panic ran through her again: perhaps Charlie had had a point. Perhaps something did need to be done to prevent her younger children falling under the spell of their grandfather.
    Joyce realized Fred and Molly were studying her intently. They’d barely been in the house five minutes and already they were picking up on her anxiety. How would she get through the rest of the evening without alerting them to the fact that something was amiss?
    It struck her then just how desperately she needed toconfide in someone, to vent her fears, and with luck find some answers – and she knew just the person to turn to. A pizza delivery would let her off parental duties for at least an hour, long enough to nip down the road to her mother and