Read Online Molly's Millions by Victoria Connelly - Free Book Online

totell him to pack it in and grow up; said he was an outdated hippie and that he should get a proper pastime like DIY. She’d rather have had him plumbing than strumming.
    Once Flora had washed, dressed and packed, they went downstairs to eat and then left the bed and breakfast and headed for the Eden Valley. It was a warm morning and they wound the windows down, luxuriating in the velvet-soft air. The countryside itself was a paradise of rivers, sandstone bridges and rolling fields. Tom wondered why he’d never heard of it before, but he guessed that the close proximity of the Lake District probably accounted for it.
    He reached in the glove compartment for the address Pike had given him. They couldn’t be far away now.
    Sure enough, a few more bends in the road and Gilt View Farm revealed itself. Tom slowed down to take the unmade road and was soon greeted by a huddle of outbuildings. He parked under the shade of an enormous sycamore tree.
    ‘Are you coming, Flo?’
    Flora nodded. ‘You don’t want me to keep an eye on the guitars.’
    ‘They should be all right. We’re in the middle of nowhere,’ Tom smiled.
    They got out of the car and Tom rolled his sleeves up above his elbows. He hadn’t caught the sun so far this summer, not with the endless East Anglian rain, and his skin was disappointingly pale, but a few days like this and he’d be sporting a golden glow in no time.
    He walked towards the farmyard followed by Flora. He was on time, but there was no sign of Wilfred Barton. Tom eyed the outbuildings, and wondered if it was worth making his way to the farmhouse. He didn’t know much aboutfarming but guessed that most farmers didn’t spend that much time indoors, so decided to hang around the farmyard and hope somebody would show up.
    No sooner had they both made themselves comfortable against an old gate than they saw someone appear from one of the outbuildings.
    ‘Hello?’ Tom shouted across the yard. ‘Mr Barton?’
    The man in a green cap with a white moustache nodded.
    ‘I’m Tom Mackenzie. Friend of Pike’s. And this is my daughter, Flo.’
    ‘Aye. I was told you’d be comin’.’
    ‘Thanks for making time to see me.’ Tom tried hard not to stare at the farmer’s moustache but it was so astonishingly white that he couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was as if a little pile of snow had settled along the top of the farmer’s mouth.
    ‘So, what is it you want to know?’ Mr Barton asked, joining them at the gate.
    ‘I’m rather interested in finding out who left you the money in your honesty box.’
    ‘Yes,’ Mr Barton chuckled. ‘So am I!’
    ‘You mean, you have no idea?’
    ‘No,’ he said, scratching his chin and shaking his head slowly.
    ‘You’ve no way of finding out?’
    ‘How could I find out?’
    Tom shrugged. ‘No security cameras?’
    ‘No money for that sort of equipment. Good God ! ’
    ‘And nobody saw anything?’
    ‘Round here? Nope.’
    Tom nodded. He supposed that the houses were far too well detached for anything like neighbourhood watch to besuccessful.
    ‘So how do you know the money was a gift – that it was meant for you?’
    ‘Well,’ Barton scratched his chin again. ‘I don’t, do I?’
    ‘And there was nothing to give away the person who left it?’
    ‘No,’ Barton said. ‘’Cept if you count a flower. There was a yellow flower in with the money.’
    Tom’s eyes widened with promise. ‘Can I see it?’
    Barton shrugged. ‘Wife wanted to press it. She’s sentimental like.’
    ‘What kind of flower is it?’
    Barton scratched his chin again. ‘I don’t rightly know – some sort of daisy, maybe. But not a wild flower. I’d say it were definitely a bought one.’
    He led the way, in a strange half-shuffle, across the courtyard to the farmhouse. It was little more than a shack really, and didn’t even look as substantial as some of the outbuildings.
    Inside seemed incredibly dark after the intense light of the summer day but, as soon