Read Online Night Music by Jojo Moyes - Free Book Online

hear the faint note of hysteria in her voice.
    ‘Mrs Delancey?’ The largest of the removal men had joined them. ‘We’ve unloaded the first of the items into the front room, but it’s pretty damp. I thought I’d better check with you before we go any further.’
    Isabel looked at him blankly. ‘Check what?’
    The man stuck his hands into his pockets. ‘Well, it’s . . . it’s not in the best . . . I didn’t know whether you might want to put your stuff into storage. Stay somewhere else. Till you’re sorted out a bit.’
    Kitty could have hugged him. Someone, finally, had seen sense.
    ‘The damp’s not too good for all those antiques.’
    ‘Oh, they’ve survived a few hundred years. They’ll cope with a bit of damp,’ said Isabel, dismissively. ‘There’s nothing here we can’t sort out. A few blow-heaters will warm the place up.’
    The man glanced at Kitty. She detected a hint of pity in his eyes. ‘As you wish,’ he said.
    Kitty imagined him and the others marvelling at the madwoman who would have her family living in a leaking wreck while she eulogised a pine table. She thought of their homes: snug, centrally heated, with well-stuffed sofas and huge plasma-screen televisions. ‘Well, where’s the kitchen stuff? I suppose we’d better start cleaning,’ she said.
    ‘Kitchen stuff?’
    ‘Household cleaners. And food. I put two boxes by the front door before we left so we’d be ready.’
    There was a short silence.
    ‘Those were for us?’
    Slowly Kitty faced her.
    ‘Oh, hell – I thought you’d put them out as rubbish. I left them by the bins.’
    What were they going to eat? Kitty wanted to yell. How would they get through today now? Did she ever think about anything but bloody music ?
    Why do I have to deal with this? Kitty turned away so that her mother couldn’t see how much she hated her at that moment. Her eyes had filled with tears of frustration, but she fought the urge to dab them away. She didn’t want her mother to see them. She wished she had the kind of mother who came prepared and bustled about getting things to work. Why couldn’t her mother be just the littlest bit practical? A rush of grief assailed her for her father, for Mary, who would have seen this house for what it was – a massive, ridiculous mistake – and told Isabel that there was simply no question. They would have to go home.
    But now there were no grown-ups. Just her.
    ‘I’ll go and get some stuff from that shop,’ she said. ‘I’ll take the car.’
    She half waited for her mother to protest that there was no way she would allow her to drive. Perhaps even to ask how she thought she could. But Isabel was lost in thought, and Kitty, one palm wiping her eyes now, left.
    Isabel turned as her daughter stalked out of the room, making her displeasure plain in every footstep. She heard the door slam and the sound of the car ignition. Then she turned to the window and closed her eyes for a long time.
    It had stopped raining, but the sky was still low and forbidding, as if it had not yet decided whether to offer a reprieve. It took Kitty almost twenty minutes to make her way to the top of the track; her father had only ever allowed her to drive short distances on holiday, in friends’ fields or up a private road to a beach. Now the car skidded and growled over the ruts as she hung on to the steering-wheel, praying that the wheels wouldn’t get stuck while she was alone in these horrible woods. She kept remembering the horror films she had seen, and saw herself running through the trees pursued by shadowy monsters.
    Once she made the top of the lane, she abandoned the car and walked the last five minutes down the road into the village.
    ‘Hello again.’ The tall black man smiled as she opened the door. ‘Did you find it all right?’
    ‘Oh, we found it.’ Kitty couldn’t keep the resignation from her voice. She picked up a wire basket and made her way round the little shop, grateful for the warmth,