Read Online Fear in the Cotswolds by Rebecca Tope - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Tope
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not exist.
Although, persisted a small inner voice, if they were ever going to exist, this was absolutely the right setting for it. How many ghost stories began with snowy nights, and a lone woman in an isolated house, awaiting the attentions of a supernatural visitor?
She turned the television up loud, watching a costume drama which made no less than fifteen blatant historical mistakes in ten minutes, with such a hopelessly anachronistic tone to the whole thing that she could hardly bear to stay with it. But all the other channels were even worse, and she couldn’t summon interest in any of the available DVDs, so she left it on. At least it helped her to forget the various threatening aspects of the world outside.
At last it was ten-thirty and she could decently go to bed. Jimmy was escorted outside, to a point only five yards from the house, where he cooperatively relieved himself in the beam of light shining from the open front door. The snow was becoming a fixture, the strange light and the absence of sound already half familiar. But Thea barely looked at it, her attention fixed on the welcoming light from the house, and the shivering dog at her heels.
* * *
Saturday morning dawned with a fleeting hope that by some miracle all the snow would have vanished in the night, only for it to be dashed immediately. There was no mistaking the flat light and muffled silence outside the window. ‘Here we go again,’ she sighed as she rolled out of bed and went to the window.
Automatically she was sweeping the visible scene for fresh footprints, for a renewed reason to fear that inexplicable things were going on out there during the night. There were plenty of footprints, but she was satisfied that they had all been made the day before, and their visibility meant that no further snow had fallen. Her resolve to walk up to the road was firmly in place, and she dressed in layers of warm clothes, with this intention in mind.
The rabbits were subdued, but their shed felt bearable, temperature-wise. The nest of babies was just as before, and a quick check reassured her that they were still very much alive. ‘Better muck you out today,’ Thea told them. ‘You’re a bit whiffy.’ Lucy had shown her a bale of wood shavings behind the hutch, used for their bedding. She would do the living area, letting Jemima’s sanctuary remain as it was for a few more days.
Jimmy was much as usual but the donkey’s temper wasn’t good. He tossed his head irritablywhen Thea tried to stroke his ears, and she saw that he had been lying in a pile of his own excrement. ‘You’re meant to do that outside,’ she reproached him, realising she was in for a second session of mucking out at some stage that day.
As she returned to the barn, she heard the phone ringing. ‘Another broken computer, I suppose,’ she muttered to Hepzie.
But she was wrong. It was Lucy Sinclair, speaking from the Canary Islands. ‘I’ve just heard about your snow,’ she began, her voice warm with lazy sunny days. ‘I can’t even imagine it. Are you all right?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Thea, without even pausing to think. ‘It’s all rather an adventure.’
‘Have you seen Kate? Has she come past?’
‘No, I don’t think she can get along the lane. The snow’s quite deep.’
‘Oh, she will. She’ll use the tractor if necessary. I’d have expected her to have done it on the first morning. She’s very resourceful, and she likes to be useful.’
‘I ought to check that she’s all right, then – do you think?’
‘You don’t have to worry about her. She can get out the other way. It’s you I’m concerned about. She’s your best hope of clearing a path. Try phoning her.’ Lucy gave the number from memory, and Thea jotted it down. ‘Althoughshe’s one of those annoying people who lets a phone ring if she’s not in the mood to talk. She hasn’t even got 1571, so you can’t leave a message.’
‘I might walk down later on, if there’s
Although, persisted a small inner voice, if they were ever going to exist, this was absolutely the right setting for it. How many ghost stories began with snowy nights, and a lone woman in an isolated house, awaiting the attentions of a supernatural visitor?
She turned the television up loud, watching a costume drama which made no less than fifteen blatant historical mistakes in ten minutes, with such a hopelessly anachronistic tone to the whole thing that she could hardly bear to stay with it. But all the other channels were even worse, and she couldn’t summon interest in any of the available DVDs, so she left it on. At least it helped her to forget the various threatening aspects of the world outside.
At last it was ten-thirty and she could decently go to bed. Jimmy was escorted outside, to a point only five yards from the house, where he cooperatively relieved himself in the beam of light shining from the open front door. The snow was becoming a fixture, the strange light and the absence of sound already half familiar. But Thea barely looked at it, her attention fixed on the welcoming light from the house, and the shivering dog at her heels.
* * *
Saturday morning dawned with a fleeting hope that by some miracle all the snow would have vanished in the night, only for it to be dashed immediately. There was no mistaking the flat light and muffled silence outside the window. ‘Here we go again,’ she sighed as she rolled out of bed and went to the window.
Automatically she was sweeping the visible scene for fresh footprints, for a renewed reason to fear that inexplicable things were going on out there during the night. There were plenty of footprints, but she was satisfied that they had all been made the day before, and their visibility meant that no further snow had fallen. Her resolve to walk up to the road was firmly in place, and she dressed in layers of warm clothes, with this intention in mind.
The rabbits were subdued, but their shed felt bearable, temperature-wise. The nest of babies was just as before, and a quick check reassured her that they were still very much alive. ‘Better muck you out today,’ Thea told them. ‘You’re a bit whiffy.’ Lucy had shown her a bale of wood shavings behind the hutch, used for their bedding. She would do the living area, letting Jemima’s sanctuary remain as it was for a few more days.
Jimmy was much as usual but the donkey’s temper wasn’t good. He tossed his head irritablywhen Thea tried to stroke his ears, and she saw that he had been lying in a pile of his own excrement. ‘You’re meant to do that outside,’ she reproached him, realising she was in for a second session of mucking out at some stage that day.
As she returned to the barn, she heard the phone ringing. ‘Another broken computer, I suppose,’ she muttered to Hepzie.
But she was wrong. It was Lucy Sinclair, speaking from the Canary Islands. ‘I’ve just heard about your snow,’ she began, her voice warm with lazy sunny days. ‘I can’t even imagine it. Are you all right?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Thea, without even pausing to think. ‘It’s all rather an adventure.’
‘Have you seen Kate? Has she come past?’
‘No, I don’t think she can get along the lane. The snow’s quite deep.’
‘Oh, she will. She’ll use the tractor if necessary. I’d have expected her to have done it on the first morning. She’s very resourceful, and she likes to be useful.’
‘I ought to check that she’s all right, then – do you think?’
‘You don’t have to worry about her. She can get out the other way. It’s you I’m concerned about. She’s your best hope of clearing a path. Try phoning her.’ Lucy gave the number from memory, and Thea jotted it down. ‘Althoughshe’s one of those annoying people who lets a phone ring if she’s not in the mood to talk. She hasn’t even got 1571, so you can’t leave a message.’
‘I might walk down later on, if there’s
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