Read Online Moderate Violence by Veronica Bennett - Free Book Online

Jo looked down into her lap and saw she had been digging her
nails in to her arm just below her elbow, where the sleeve of her blouse
finished. “In the pub, probably” Tess continued, obliviously.
    Press. Release. Press. Release… There would be
crescent-shaped marks on her arm.
    “Or he’s gone off to put the house on the market,
hasn’t he?”
    Red at first, fading to skin-coloured again. Press.
Release. Press. Press… She moved her hand away from her arm and sighed.
     “No, of course not.” Jo said. She didn’t remind her
mother that the house was, in fact, Trevor’s as well as hers. Grandad Pratt had
given them the deposit as a wedding present, but Trevor had made the mortgage
payments. “Give it a rest, Tess. My head hurts.”
    “Hangover? Have a cake.”
    “No, it’s not a hangover. I didn’t drink anything last
night.”
    Tess had her poor-diddums face on. “Oh, were you all on
your ownsome? Serves you right for going off in a huff like that.” She took one
of the cakes and cut it in half. “Share?”
    Jo shook her head. “Actually, I went out for a curry
with a boy I know from work.” The words came out in such a rush she wondered if
they’d made sense, but a glance at Tess told her they had. Her mother was
staring at her, the cake half way to her mouth.
    “ Really ?”
    “Yes. His name’s Toby and he’s eighteen.”
    Tess bit into the cake. “So he’s off to university next
term, then,” she said contentedly.
    “No, he’s got a job on the permanent staff at the shop.
He really wants to get into fashion buying,” she went on before Tess could
finish her mouthful, “so it’s a sort of step on the ladder.”
    “I see.” Tess put the cake down. “Has your father met
him?”
    “No.”
    “Have you met his people?”
    Jo tried to remain patient, though she winced inwardly
at the way Tess always referred to anyone’s family as their ‘people’, as if no
Ferguson could ever be good enough for a Probert. “Tess, I’ve only been out
with him once. I hardly know him.”
    “But you like him, don’t you?” Tess’s expression had
softened. Something near to maternal indulgence came into her eyes. “Is my
darling girl in lurve ?”
    “No, of course not,” said Jo. She couldn’t help her
face reddening, though. She caressed the moon-marks one final time, wishing she
could look at them. Then she took the other half of the cake. “But when she is,
you’ll be the first to know, since you’re so interested.”
    The front door slammed. Jo and Tess listened to the
familiar sounds of Trevor dropping his keys onto the hall stand and calling,
“Hi guys, I’m home!” which he considered very modern. “Anyone in?” His head
came round the kitchen door. “Oh…hello.” His gaze took in them both, and the
cakes. He put down the supermarket bag he was carrying and slung The Guardian onto the table. “Want to see
something I got in the post this morning?”
    “Is it a pizza flyer?” asked Tess. “Or a tax demand?”
    “Very funny. Any tea going?”
    Jo took a bite of cake, got up and lifted the kettle. “So
what is it, then?”
    Trevor searched his pockets for a folded piece of
paper. He spread it on the table. “This is the place Mord’s got his eye on,” he
announced.
    Jo put the kettle down again. She and Tess looked at
the paper. It was an estate agents’ property details. There was a picture of
the exterior of the house and several of the interior, and a lot of extravagant
description of what a great location it was in. But Jo didn’t read the words. Astonished,
she gazed at the main picture, which was of an old – perhaps hundreds of years
old – house, surrounded by grass, against a backdrop of sunlit mountains.
    “It’s a farmhouse,” said Trevor proudly. “The nearest
town is Aberystwyth.”
    “Aberystwyth! Fancy that!” Tess picked up the piece of
paper and thrust it at Trevor’s chest. “And you’ll sink every last penny into
it, won’t you? I can’t