Read Online Red Alert by Margaret Thomson Davis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margaret Thomson Davis
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themselves, she had discovered just what a sexually passionate man Greg was.
Not for the first time, she told herself, she was an extremely lucky woman. She resolved never to mention Johnny’s name to Greg again. It just led to arguments and trouble every time. The time might come when she would lose him. She daren’t take that risk any longer. No, from now on, she told herself firmly, she was going to guard her relationship with Greg. From now on, she was definitely going to put him first.
That didn’t mean, of course, that she was able to stop worrying about her brother. A few days later, she sensed a difference in him. So much so that she got him on his own in his bedroom, and said, ‘Has something happened, Johnny? If there’s something wrong, I don’t want you to worry Mum about it. Just tell me.’
He gave a high-pitched laugh that made her more concerned than ever.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘You haven’t got mixed up with anything dishonest, have you?’
‘I haven’t done a thing.’ He laughed again. ‘What an idea! What would your straight-as-a-die hero say to that? I can just imagine him rushing to tell his police pals all about me.’
Despite the laughter, she saw a glimpse of fear in his eyes before he turned away and left the room. She stood listening to his feet clattering down the stairs, wondering what she should do. He would be on his way now to Paul and Renee’s flat. She thought about following him and confronting him there. She decided against it. He would be furious at her for putting a foot in their precious flat. To Johnny, it was almost a hallowed place. He always insisted it was the first job he’d managed to do successfully and where he was trusted and appreciated, where he was happy.
It would be wiser, Kirsty decided, to wait until tomorrow morning when he was at home and they could sit down and relax with a cup of coffee and have a proper talk. Her mother was always busy at her needlework and sewing machine in the forenoons. She hadn’t seen her mother so happy and relaxed for years. Even her father couldn’t spoil all the euphoria of the wedding plans.
What added to her mother’s happiness, of course, was the fact that Greg was so good to the older woman. Kirsty had teased him about it.
‘Who would believe,’ she said, ‘that a great big hulking brute could be so kind and gentle to an old woman?’
‘Watch your language, my girl!’ He glowered down at her with mock ferociousness. ‘Or I’ll be forced to put you over my knee and deliver some well-deserved corporal punishment. With this …’ He showed her a big, broad palm. She laughed and smoothed her cheek against it.
‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘Mmm.’ He kissed her on the mouth. ‘I must admit that for such a little, delicate-looking blonde, you’ve an astonishing amount of nerve.’
She had a feeling that she was going to need some of that nerve. Her instinct had always been right about Johnny. And her instinct was telling her now that something was seriously wrong. Johnny was not just anxious. He was frightened.
12
Betty pushed through the blackened swing doors into the studio. It was bathed in cool, clear light from the huge window that dominated the far wall, soaring up to the ceiling so high above them. She passed one of the other students. He was carrying his large canvas up the narrow wooden staircase to the spacious mezzanine work area that overlooked the main studio.
In the far corner, students were washing brushes in the oldfashioned deep sink. The wall behind it was smothered in a patina of generations of paint spattered and smeared in a riot of colour. Betty breathed in air redolent with the aroma of turpentine and linseed oil. She felt that this was where she belonged.
Then her happiness was suddenly punctured when the model appeared. She had expected Greg but it was a different firefighter. Admittedly, she knew that other firefighters took Greg’s place from time to time. Word had
Not for the first time, she told herself, she was an extremely lucky woman. She resolved never to mention Johnny’s name to Greg again. It just led to arguments and trouble every time. The time might come when she would lose him. She daren’t take that risk any longer. No, from now on, she told herself firmly, she was going to guard her relationship with Greg. From now on, she was definitely going to put him first.
That didn’t mean, of course, that she was able to stop worrying about her brother. A few days later, she sensed a difference in him. So much so that she got him on his own in his bedroom, and said, ‘Has something happened, Johnny? If there’s something wrong, I don’t want you to worry Mum about it. Just tell me.’
He gave a high-pitched laugh that made her more concerned than ever.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘You haven’t got mixed up with anything dishonest, have you?’
‘I haven’t done a thing.’ He laughed again. ‘What an idea! What would your straight-as-a-die hero say to that? I can just imagine him rushing to tell his police pals all about me.’
Despite the laughter, she saw a glimpse of fear in his eyes before he turned away and left the room. She stood listening to his feet clattering down the stairs, wondering what she should do. He would be on his way now to Paul and Renee’s flat. She thought about following him and confronting him there. She decided against it. He would be furious at her for putting a foot in their precious flat. To Johnny, it was almost a hallowed place. He always insisted it was the first job he’d managed to do successfully and where he was trusted and appreciated, where he was happy.
It would be wiser, Kirsty decided, to wait until tomorrow morning when he was at home and they could sit down and relax with a cup of coffee and have a proper talk. Her mother was always busy at her needlework and sewing machine in the forenoons. She hadn’t seen her mother so happy and relaxed for years. Even her father couldn’t spoil all the euphoria of the wedding plans.
What added to her mother’s happiness, of course, was the fact that Greg was so good to the older woman. Kirsty had teased him about it.
‘Who would believe,’ she said, ‘that a great big hulking brute could be so kind and gentle to an old woman?’
‘Watch your language, my girl!’ He glowered down at her with mock ferociousness. ‘Or I’ll be forced to put you over my knee and deliver some well-deserved corporal punishment. With this …’ He showed her a big, broad palm. She laughed and smoothed her cheek against it.
‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘Mmm.’ He kissed her on the mouth. ‘I must admit that for such a little, delicate-looking blonde, you’ve an astonishing amount of nerve.’
She had a feeling that she was going to need some of that nerve. Her instinct had always been right about Johnny. And her instinct was telling her now that something was seriously wrong. Johnny was not just anxious. He was frightened.
12
Betty pushed through the blackened swing doors into the studio. It was bathed in cool, clear light from the huge window that dominated the far wall, soaring up to the ceiling so high above them. She passed one of the other students. He was carrying his large canvas up the narrow wooden staircase to the spacious mezzanine work area that overlooked the main studio.
In the far corner, students were washing brushes in the oldfashioned deep sink. The wall behind it was smothered in a patina of generations of paint spattered and smeared in a riot of colour. Betty breathed in air redolent with the aroma of turpentine and linseed oil. She felt that this was where she belonged.
Then her happiness was suddenly punctured when the model appeared. She had expected Greg but it was a different firefighter. Admittedly, she knew that other firefighters took Greg’s place from time to time. Word had
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