Read Online Snare by Gwen Moffat - Free Book Online

up-market takeaway. That would mean living away from home, and there are all kinds of evils lurking out there.’
    â€˜You’d have to leave home to study journalism.’
    â€˜It would have to be a residential college, or lodging with friends of Mum’s. I’m a marketable property, a dynastic pawn. There, have I a way with words?’
    â€˜You have indeed.’
    â€˜So perhaps you would speak to my mother about a college?’
    â€˜And you do some homework in Edinburgh: go to libraries, read some careers books.’
    â€˜I could do that.’
    Flora’s interest was spiked with boredom. When animated it was as if she never talked to other adults. As they were crossing the bridge over the Beauly Firth, Miss Pink said, ‘You’re friendly with Hamish Knox.’ Flora’s face became set. ‘I saw you riding with him yesterday,’ she went on. ‘Did he hurt himself when he came off?’
    â€˜He was shaken up a bit. Where were you?’
    â€˜I was on the cliff above your house. I had a bad moment; I anticipated the worst – that it would be Alec who was run down.’
    Flora said nothing.
    â€˜Unfortunate about the dog,’ Miss Pink added.
    â€˜Did it get kicked?’
    â€˜I suppose so. Or the pony fell on it.’
    Flora was looking hard at her. ‘Did it have to be put down?’
    â€˜No, it was killed instantly, or so I understand. Didn’t you know?’
    The girl stared through the windscreen. She sighed, ‘I’m sorry. How would I know? Hamish came back to the yard, but he didn’t know either. Alec attacked him and he ran away as fast as he could. And I’ve not spoken to Hamish since, so I didn’t know about the dog. I’ll bring a puppy back from Edinburgh and give it to Alec.’
    â€˜I shouldn’t do that. Wait until he gets over his loss. And Hamish should be the one to make amends; he was whipping that pony like a madman.’
    â€˜He was? I didn’t look back – we’d had words about the jumps. He wanted to raise them for the gelding – but you’re not interested in shop talk. The point is, they’re my ponies and I won’t be dictated to, not by him anyway. I taught him to ride; no way is he going to tell me how to train my animals. He got mad.’ Flora grinned. ‘I guess I let the relationship get out of hand. He got pushy yesterday and I had to come the grande dame. ’
    â€˜And what does he plan to do with himself?’ They were on the outskirts of Inverness and Miss Pink’s attention was on the traffic.
    â€˜I’ve no idea. He’s a drifter. No doubt he’ll end up as an estate worker once he’s learned to control his temper. Most of them do. End up working for us, I mean.’
    Miss Pink dropped her passenger at the railway station and, Flora having declined an invitation to luncheon, lunched herself at the Station Hotel before setting out to find a man to mend her typewriter and to buy delicacies unobtainable on the West Coast. But the afternoon was warm and the city streets stank of exhaust fumes, so it was with relief that she crossed the last item from her list and, the boot stacked with boxes of food and drink, started back to Sgoradale.
    She returned by a more westerly route than the central moors. The sun had set by the time she reached the coast and the tide was high. Water lay like pools of opal silk in coves where ragged stacks were silhouetted against the afterglow. As she came round the bend of the Lamentation Road, the lights of crofts were twinkling on the far side of the loch. When she pulled up on the turf and cut her engine, she could hear the water lapping a few yards away, and the air smelled of seaweed and salt.
    After supper she relaxed in an armchair, a brandy at her elbow, The Times within reach.
    As she went to pick it up, she became aware of a sound in the kitchen, like someone knocking on the window pane.
    Her