Read Online Deep Water, Thin Ice by Kathy Shuker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathy Shuker
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more suggestive. ‘I’m surprised you can get away with this in Kellaford Bridge without censorship,’ he quipped. ‘It’s not a very liberal sort of place.’
‘There have been remarks,’ Helen said primly. ‘But I don’t pay attention. It’s art.’
‘Of course. Is the artist local?’
‘Not far away.’
He studied the painting quite closely and stroked the tip of one finger slowly across his upper lip. He glanced at Helen briefly to find her eyes on him, transfixed. She flushed and moved away.
Theo stepped back, still looking at the picture, nodded and then sauntered across to the counter where Helen was staring sightlessly at the catalogue again. She put it down as he came close and looked up at him, meeting his eyes.
‘Interested?’ she said coolly.
‘Certainly am.’ He raised his eyebrows and still she held his gaze. Eventually, he slid his eyes down and allowed them to look her over, her shapely figure trapped in a low-necked clinging v-neck top and a tight skirt. He gently picked up her left hand and fingered her wedding ring.
‘Married I see,’ he said, looking up into her face. ‘I’m Theo Hellyon,’ he said. ‘And your name…?’
‘Helen. Helen Geaton. Yes, I’m married,’ she said with a weak attempt at dignity and pulled her hand away. ‘My husband’s the harbourmaster here.’
‘Oh yes, I know him, or rather, we’ve met.’ Theo glanced round the room again. ‘I go away a lot,’ he added. ‘Travelling with my work.’ He returned his eyes to her face. ‘Life in Kellaford can get a bit dull sometimes, can’t it?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said quickly and then for a moment looked wrong-footed. ‘Travelling must be fun.’
‘It is. I suppose you’re home a lot. Does your husband travel?’
Theo looked at her with innocently raised eyebrows, his eyes wide and inviting.
‘He likes to go away fishing on his days off, sometimes for the weekend.’
‘Sea-fishing?’
‘No, river. Inland. He’s got a friend he goes with.’
‘And you’re not interested I suppose?’
‘Hardly.’ She failed to keep the contempt out of her voice.
Theo leaned forward onto the counter and dropped his voice silky and low, his breath making the hair framing her face quiver.
‘Then I think you deserve some entertainment too, don’t you?’
Helen appeared to be almost holding her breath as she nodded. Theo suddenly stood up straight and moved away from the counter just as the shop door opened and a couple came in.
‘Thank you Helen,’ he remarked pleasantly. ‘Lovely gallery. I’m sure I’ll be in soon.’
He closed the door behind him and was confident that Helen was watching his every step as he walked away.
*
Alex had begun to spend money on the house. She replaced the cracked and stained crockery, invested in a range of new kitchen equipment, and finally got round to having a new television and DVD delivered. She looked into the options for replacing the rotten windows and contacted an oil company to fill up the tank for the boiler. She’d managed to get the clock going again – she wasn’t sure how – only to have it stop again the same evening. So she’d had a clock specialist out to the house to look at it. He’d serviced its movement and had declared it in remarkably good order. ‘So why does it keep stopping?’ she asked. ‘I’m not sure,’ he replied, sounding disinterested. ‘They can be a bit temperamental.’ He had a bushy head of grey hair and he stooped as if he had all the cares of the world on his shoulders. He only needed the long white beard, thought Alex, to be Father Time himself. ‘If you were more than two hundred years old,’ he continued laconically, ‘You’d probably creak a little too.’ He’d glanced round the room. ‘Maybe it’s not quite level, not quite balanced. Try moving it a little.’ He’d quickly left with her none the wiser. ‘Move it a little,’ she muttered to herself. ‘On my own?’
And in between, she just
‘There have been remarks,’ Helen said primly. ‘But I don’t pay attention. It’s art.’
‘Of course. Is the artist local?’
‘Not far away.’
He studied the painting quite closely and stroked the tip of one finger slowly across his upper lip. He glanced at Helen briefly to find her eyes on him, transfixed. She flushed and moved away.
Theo stepped back, still looking at the picture, nodded and then sauntered across to the counter where Helen was staring sightlessly at the catalogue again. She put it down as he came close and looked up at him, meeting his eyes.
‘Interested?’ she said coolly.
‘Certainly am.’ He raised his eyebrows and still she held his gaze. Eventually, he slid his eyes down and allowed them to look her over, her shapely figure trapped in a low-necked clinging v-neck top and a tight skirt. He gently picked up her left hand and fingered her wedding ring.
‘Married I see,’ he said, looking up into her face. ‘I’m Theo Hellyon,’ he said. ‘And your name…?’
‘Helen. Helen Geaton. Yes, I’m married,’ she said with a weak attempt at dignity and pulled her hand away. ‘My husband’s the harbourmaster here.’
‘Oh yes, I know him, or rather, we’ve met.’ Theo glanced round the room again. ‘I go away a lot,’ he added. ‘Travelling with my work.’ He returned his eyes to her face. ‘Life in Kellaford can get a bit dull sometimes, can’t it?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said quickly and then for a moment looked wrong-footed. ‘Travelling must be fun.’
‘It is. I suppose you’re home a lot. Does your husband travel?’
Theo looked at her with innocently raised eyebrows, his eyes wide and inviting.
‘He likes to go away fishing on his days off, sometimes for the weekend.’
‘Sea-fishing?’
‘No, river. Inland. He’s got a friend he goes with.’
‘And you’re not interested I suppose?’
‘Hardly.’ She failed to keep the contempt out of her voice.
Theo leaned forward onto the counter and dropped his voice silky and low, his breath making the hair framing her face quiver.
‘Then I think you deserve some entertainment too, don’t you?’
Helen appeared to be almost holding her breath as she nodded. Theo suddenly stood up straight and moved away from the counter just as the shop door opened and a couple came in.
‘Thank you Helen,’ he remarked pleasantly. ‘Lovely gallery. I’m sure I’ll be in soon.’
He closed the door behind him and was confident that Helen was watching his every step as he walked away.
*
Alex had begun to spend money on the house. She replaced the cracked and stained crockery, invested in a range of new kitchen equipment, and finally got round to having a new television and DVD delivered. She looked into the options for replacing the rotten windows and contacted an oil company to fill up the tank for the boiler. She’d managed to get the clock going again – she wasn’t sure how – only to have it stop again the same evening. So she’d had a clock specialist out to the house to look at it. He’d serviced its movement and had declared it in remarkably good order. ‘So why does it keep stopping?’ she asked. ‘I’m not sure,’ he replied, sounding disinterested. ‘They can be a bit temperamental.’ He had a bushy head of grey hair and he stooped as if he had all the cares of the world on his shoulders. He only needed the long white beard, thought Alex, to be Father Time himself. ‘If you were more than two hundred years old,’ he continued laconically, ‘You’d probably creak a little too.’ He’d glanced round the room. ‘Maybe it’s not quite level, not quite balanced. Try moving it a little.’ He’d quickly left with her none the wiser. ‘Move it a little,’ she muttered to herself. ‘On my own?’
And in between, she just
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