Read Online Home through the Dark by Anthea Fraser - Free Book Online Page A

the disappearance – if there really had been a disappearance. It was all so bafflingly vague that I seemed to have come to a dead end in the puzzle I had set myself to solve. There was certainly nothing further to be gained by another visit to the Picardy, and as for the tenuous link with the theatre, it could of course have been sheer coincidence that Stephen had been whistling “Roses of Picardy.” The only other possible line to pursue was to go back to square one, the place where it had all started – the estate agents’ office.
    I laid my cup carefully down on the saucer, aware of quickening excitement. They were short-staffed, obviously, or the office would not have been deserted when I called. And, as I had told Sarah, I needed to find a job. Teaching was obviously not open to me at the moment, but I had learned shorthand and typing one year when Carl’s private secretary went down with glandular fever and was away for several months.
    I went quickly into the hall and selected the local Yellow Pages directory from the table under the round window. There were two secretarial bureaus in Westhampton. Surely I could inveigle one of them into offering me a job at Culpepper’s.

Chapter 5
    THE woman across the desk smiled brightly. “And what kind of secretarial work do you feel would interest you, Miss Durrell?”
    â€œActually,” I said firmly, “I’d rather like to work for an estate agent, if there are any jobs available in that line.”
    â€œEstate agents. I’ll just check.” She lifted a small card index file onto the desk and started to flick through it. “Of course all summer we’ve been desperately short of temps, but now that the holiday season is coming to an end there’s not quite such a large choice on offer. However, I believe we have one or two which might interest you. Freeman and Lethbridge on the High Street are looking for – oh no, it’s a junior they want. And – yes, Culpepper, Simpson and Clark, just a little bit further up the Parade here, are wanting someone for the next three weeks.”
    I let out my held breath. “That sounds ideal.”
    â€œJust a moment and I’ll phone them to make sure they’re not fixed up. People aren’t always very reliable about letting us know when they find someone.” She was dialling with her pencil as she spoke. It was clear almost at once that Culpepper’s had not yet filled the vacancy and an appointment was made for me to go round straight away.
    â€œYou’ll see Miss Davidson and Mr. Holding, Miss Durrell. I do hope the job’s to your liking.”
    â€œThank you.” I stood up and added awkwardly, “Do I owe you anything if I accept?”
    â€œNo, no, it’s the employer who sees to that. Good luck.” The walnut partitions shone as richly as they had done last Thursday. One telephone was still on the highly polished counter alongside the list of properties for sale. But this time the woman I’d seen through the window before was seated at a desk, and she rose quickly and came towards me.
    â€œMiss Durrell? I’m Isobel Davidson. I wonder if you could give me a few particulars before I take you in to Mr. Holding?”
    â€œOf course.” I sat down opposite her and tried to gloss over the fact that although my shorthand and typing had reached good average speeds, I had never actually worked in an office. She prompted me at intervals, making notes in a small, neat hand, and I studied her while she did so, wondering again if she was the intended recipient for the message. She was about thirty-five or six, I guessed, unmarried, and with fair hair scraped severely back into a French pleat. She was tall, slim, smartly dressed and, to judge by the glasses perched on her nose, rather short-sighted. However hard I tried, I could not imagine her within the dubious confines of the Picardy Hotel.
    I glanced across at an