Read Online Summer House by Marcia Willett - Free Book Online Page A

all.’
    â€˜Of course it is. And, anyway, as I said, Matt’s gone and I promise that I’ll be very tactful and keep out of the way.’ She’d hesitated. ‘I hope there isn’t a serious problem.’
    â€˜No.’ She’d answered too quickly to be convincing. ‘And Alice is overreacting, of course. Get Milo for me, would you?’
    Now, Lottie closed the wood-burner’s doors and stood up, dusting her hands, pulling the woollen coat closely around her. Sara made no secret of the fact that she’d never really liked Alice; not even to Alice. Her dislike of her daughter-in-law wouldn’t help this present situation.
    Lottie stood for a moment, watching the birds on the seed and nut feeders and on the table: bluetits, a robin, a flutter of sparrows. Suddenly a much larger bird appeared. Beyond the french doors a pheasant paced the terrace, his richly coloured plumage iridescent with copper and greens and reds. He paused, head lowered, neck stretched, staring at the window in which he saw a rival: a beautiful, aggressive male staring back at him. He came closer and his reflection moved with him, strutting, thrusting, pecking at the glass, until Pud came into the room, hesitated in amazement, and then launched himself at the window, barking. The pheasant reared backwards with a startled staccato cry and ran, stiff-legged, into the shrubbery.
    Lottie laughed. ‘Come away, Pud. He’s gone. Let’s go and have some breakfast.’
    Her mind ranged over the few things still to be done before Nick arrived that afternoon. His room was ready, a fish pie
prepared for supper; it was really just a question of waiting for him to turn up. She gave Pud his breakfast, pausing to smooth his silky head, and then made her porridge and cut some bread for toast. She pottered between kitchen and breakfast room, laying the table, waiting for the toaster to pop, and was surprised when Milo appeared, earlier than usual. She was even more surprised when he smiled at her, touched her shoulder, asked if she were ready for some coffee.
    Suddenly she realized that his unusual readiness to communicate was due to restlessness; anxiety, probably, about Nick. Lottie sprinkled brown sugar on her porridge and waited.
    â€˜Saw you feeding the birds,’ he said. ‘Looked jolly cold out there.’
    â€˜It was,’ she agreed. ‘The wind’s swung round to the north-east. Nick’s bedroom is like a fridge so I’ve turned the radiator on. He might need a hottie tonight.’
    Milo looked contemptuous but refrained from comment. Lottie grinned at him.
    â€˜We’re not all as tough as you,’ she said. ‘Or as inhuman.’
    â€˜He’s a young man,’ Milo protested. ‘Hotties! Good grief!’
    â€˜He’s nearly forty,’ Lottie said mildly. ‘Not very young. And he’s not used to our Spartan existence.’
    Milo snorted. ‘They keep that house like an oven. No wonder the children are so sickly. Always got coughs and colds and snivels.’
    He frowned, as if he’d just reminded himself of Nick’s unknown problem, and drank some coffee in silence. Lottie spread marmalade on her toast.
    â€˜It seems impossible to believe that Alice would leave
him,’ she said, refusing to be intimidated by the subject and speaking out. ‘He’ll have had to have done something pretty serious. I think we’re jumping the gun.’
    Milo stared at her; he looked stricken. ‘What, though?’
    Lottie looked back at him compassionately. She shrugged, pulling down the corners of her mouth, speculating on what Nick’s crime might be.
    â€˜I suppose it’ll be sex or money,’ she said at last.
    â€˜You make it sound like a Jane Austen novel,’ he said crossly.
    â€˜Sorry,’ she said, ‘but those are the two usual things, aren’t they, when it comes to marital problems? Sorry,’ she said