Read Online Mrs. Malory and A Time To Die by HAZEL HOLT - Free Book Online
Authors: HAZEL HOLT
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the lights flickered from time to time and the rumble of thunder seemed to be getting nearer. Tris, who hates thunderstorms, sat pressed close by my feet and quivered at each lightning flash.
I went to bed early, taking the animals with me. Tris lay on the bottom of the bed, making little whimpering sounds when the noise of the thunder was too much for him. Foss, who loves excitement of any kind, inserted himself behind the drawn curtains on the windowsill, where he watched the storm with the interest of a small child at a fire-work display. I couldn’t get to sleep and lay there in the dark, not even able to see the time because the brief power cuts caused by the storm meant that my electric clock was affected and was now flashing madly on and off. After a while I put on the light, switched off the clock and looked at my watch. It was only just after midnight. With a sigh I picked up my copy of Pillars of the House and immersed myself in the lives of the Underwood family until the storm had passed over and I was able to sleep.
The next morning I had hoped to have a little lie-in, but now that the storm was over the animals were anxious to get on with their lives and saw no reason to be diverted from their usual regime, so we were all downstairs by eight o’clock, they with their bowls of food and I with a very necessary cup of coffee. When I went to let them out, I saw it was a beautiful morning and last night’s raindrops were sparkling in the sun.
Inspired by the brightness and freshness of the morning, I had a great clear-out in the kitchen, sweeping away the detritus of daily living from the work-top—all the packets of dry animal food, a dish of withered apples and overripe bananas, a bowl half full of drippings I’d meant to put out for the birds, a packet of biscuits and a couple of storage tins that should have been put away in the larder, and the animals’ antiflea spray—and wiped down every surface I could reach. After all that, averting my eyes from the cooker, I made myself another cup of coffee and had a nice sit-down with the daily paper.
It was late afternoon when Rosemary rang. Her voice was a little unsteady.
“Sheila, the most awful thing has happened. Charlie’s dead.”
Chapter Six
For a moment I didn’t take in what Rosemary was saying.
“Dead?”
“Yes, but it’s worse than that, Sheila. He’s been killed.”
“Killed,” I echoed stupidly.
“In the stables. He was hit over the head—it looks like a burglary that went wrong.”
“That’s—that’s horrible! When was this?”
“This morning—very early on. Simon rang a little while ago to tell me.”
“What happened?”
“Apparently he got up when it was just light to see to the horses—they’d been restless in the night . . . that awful storm. Liz had the same idea and she arrived early. She went into the office to put her things down before going to see to the horses and she found him there. He was slumped on the desk and there was this awful wound on the side of his head.”
“Oh no!”
“She said there was a very faint pulse—you know Jo made both girls do that first aid course— so she rang for an ambulance straightaway and then she rang up to the house to let Jo know what had happened.”
“Poor Jo. How could she bear it?” I asked.
“Liz said she was very calm and when the ambulance arrived, she went with him, of course. But he died on the way to the hospital without regaining consciousness.”
“Where’s Jo now?”
“At home. She rang Simon and he fetched her from the hospital. He’ll stay with her tonight.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“The police were all over the place. Apparently the safe—you know that small safe in the office—was open but the money, yesterday’s takings, was still there, so I suppose whoever it was panicked when he saw what he’d done and ran away.”
“Oh dear,” I said wearily, “what a terrible waste of a wonderful life.”
“I know. Charlie of
I went to bed early, taking the animals with me. Tris lay on the bottom of the bed, making little whimpering sounds when the noise of the thunder was too much for him. Foss, who loves excitement of any kind, inserted himself behind the drawn curtains on the windowsill, where he watched the storm with the interest of a small child at a fire-work display. I couldn’t get to sleep and lay there in the dark, not even able to see the time because the brief power cuts caused by the storm meant that my electric clock was affected and was now flashing madly on and off. After a while I put on the light, switched off the clock and looked at my watch. It was only just after midnight. With a sigh I picked up my copy of Pillars of the House and immersed myself in the lives of the Underwood family until the storm had passed over and I was able to sleep.
The next morning I had hoped to have a little lie-in, but now that the storm was over the animals were anxious to get on with their lives and saw no reason to be diverted from their usual regime, so we were all downstairs by eight o’clock, they with their bowls of food and I with a very necessary cup of coffee. When I went to let them out, I saw it was a beautiful morning and last night’s raindrops were sparkling in the sun.
Inspired by the brightness and freshness of the morning, I had a great clear-out in the kitchen, sweeping away the detritus of daily living from the work-top—all the packets of dry animal food, a dish of withered apples and overripe bananas, a bowl half full of drippings I’d meant to put out for the birds, a packet of biscuits and a couple of storage tins that should have been put away in the larder, and the animals’ antiflea spray—and wiped down every surface I could reach. After all that, averting my eyes from the cooker, I made myself another cup of coffee and had a nice sit-down with the daily paper.
It was late afternoon when Rosemary rang. Her voice was a little unsteady.
“Sheila, the most awful thing has happened. Charlie’s dead.”
Chapter Six
For a moment I didn’t take in what Rosemary was saying.
“Dead?”
“Yes, but it’s worse than that, Sheila. He’s been killed.”
“Killed,” I echoed stupidly.
“In the stables. He was hit over the head—it looks like a burglary that went wrong.”
“That’s—that’s horrible! When was this?”
“This morning—very early on. Simon rang a little while ago to tell me.”
“What happened?”
“Apparently he got up when it was just light to see to the horses—they’d been restless in the night . . . that awful storm. Liz had the same idea and she arrived early. She went into the office to put her things down before going to see to the horses and she found him there. He was slumped on the desk and there was this awful wound on the side of his head.”
“Oh no!”
“She said there was a very faint pulse—you know Jo made both girls do that first aid course— so she rang for an ambulance straightaway and then she rang up to the house to let Jo know what had happened.”
“Poor Jo. How could she bear it?” I asked.
“Liz said she was very calm and when the ambulance arrived, she went with him, of course. But he died on the way to the hospital without regaining consciousness.”
“Where’s Jo now?”
“At home. She rang Simon and he fetched her from the hospital. He’ll stay with her tonight.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“The police were all over the place. Apparently the safe—you know that small safe in the office—was open but the money, yesterday’s takings, was still there, so I suppose whoever it was panicked when he saw what he’d done and ran away.”
“Oh dear,” I said wearily, “what a terrible waste of a wonderful life.”
“I know. Charlie of
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