Read Online The Grave by Diane M Dickson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diane M Dickson
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nothing though and when the weather report began
with news of torrential rain covering practically the whole of the country she
turned off the radio with a sigh of relief.
Back in the kitchen she made a drink and a sandwich. Samuel
had given her no indication of how long he might be away and, unable to stray
outdoors and with the strict constraint on her movements inside the house, she
grew restless and bored. She knew now that actually she would have been better
going with Samuel in the car.
She wandered back to the bedroom but found nothing to do.
An idea slid through her mind briefly but she didn’t believe Samuel would
appreciate her unpacking or ironing his clothes. She pulled her own bag to the
corner of the room, allowing easier access to the dresser, she dragged his
nearer to the wall to make a wider space beside the bed. There were two bags, a
small one which was gaping open to reveal his clothes and toilet bag and the
large black hold-all which he had carried from the car. She was amazed by the
weight of it as she struggled to drag it across the carpet and push it, bulky
and intriguing, alongside its mate.
The honourable thing obviously was to leave it closed and
she was determined to respect his privacy but the temptation to pry was
enormous. She left the room closing the door on the tantalising piece of
luggage and turned to the stairs. Out of sight, out of mind she hoped.
Boredom and inactivity played its part and natural
inquisitiveness drew her back to the other doors on the landing. He hadn’t
said she couldn't have free access to the whole house. He had simply said she
must keep away from the windows and outside doors and not use any heating lest
the steam from the vent was seen outside. She laid her hand on the handle, for
a moment she was undecided, was it moral to explore? She couldn’t imagine why
it would not be and so she turned the knob and pushed against the wood.
The door swung back to reveal another room with the curtains
open letting in the rain-soaked light of the late morning. The walls were
palest yellow and half way down was a border of cartoon animals and colourful
alphabet letters. On the wall opposite the window great cartoon sheep
gambolled across bright green hillsides peppered with yellow flowers. Against
the wall behind the door stood a white cot, a changing table flanked one side
and a tiny bassinet on a wooden stand was placed at the bottom. There was a
tall chest which had been painted in pale pastels and decorated with cartoon
decals.
Sylvie’s hands flew to her mouth. This pretty nursery was
not what she had expected, not this at all.
Chapter 22
She moved further into the little room, it was clean but the
atmosphere was closed up and suspended. There were no fluffy blankets on the
cot, no tiny teddy bear propped in the corner of the bassinet and no tinkling,
glittering mobile dangling from the ceiling hook. A display in a department
store would hold more life.
The surfaces were bare, covered with a thin layer of dust as
had been the rest of the house. The cleaner must be due to come soon. She
slid open the first three drawers of the dresser, there were no cute miniature outfits
or soft sheets and coverlets. This nursery was waiting, for a tiny inhabitant,
for the smell of milk and baby powder and the sound of lullabies. The rocking
chair in the corner was forlorn in its stillness, the room would have been
better picked up and packed away, so great was the air of abandonment.
She dragged open the lowest drawer, there was a flat packet
lying on the bottom and she reached in and lifted it. It was obvious
immediately that it was a frame, wrapped in a piece of towelling.
She placed the parcel onto the top of the dresser, her hands
were shaking and there was a risk it would be dropped and damaged. She
unfolded the soft fabric. In the bright picture a young, dark haired woman, in
the early
with news of torrential rain covering practically the whole of the country she
turned off the radio with a sigh of relief.
Back in the kitchen she made a drink and a sandwich. Samuel
had given her no indication of how long he might be away and, unable to stray
outdoors and with the strict constraint on her movements inside the house, she
grew restless and bored. She knew now that actually she would have been better
going with Samuel in the car.
She wandered back to the bedroom but found nothing to do.
An idea slid through her mind briefly but she didn’t believe Samuel would
appreciate her unpacking or ironing his clothes. She pulled her own bag to the
corner of the room, allowing easier access to the dresser, she dragged his
nearer to the wall to make a wider space beside the bed. There were two bags, a
small one which was gaping open to reveal his clothes and toilet bag and the
large black hold-all which he had carried from the car. She was amazed by the
weight of it as she struggled to drag it across the carpet and push it, bulky
and intriguing, alongside its mate.
The honourable thing obviously was to leave it closed and
she was determined to respect his privacy but the temptation to pry was
enormous. She left the room closing the door on the tantalising piece of
luggage and turned to the stairs. Out of sight, out of mind she hoped.
Boredom and inactivity played its part and natural
inquisitiveness drew her back to the other doors on the landing. He hadn’t
said she couldn't have free access to the whole house. He had simply said she
must keep away from the windows and outside doors and not use any heating lest
the steam from the vent was seen outside. She laid her hand on the handle, for
a moment she was undecided, was it moral to explore? She couldn’t imagine why
it would not be and so she turned the knob and pushed against the wood.
The door swung back to reveal another room with the curtains
open letting in the rain-soaked light of the late morning. The walls were
palest yellow and half way down was a border of cartoon animals and colourful
alphabet letters. On the wall opposite the window great cartoon sheep
gambolled across bright green hillsides peppered with yellow flowers. Against
the wall behind the door stood a white cot, a changing table flanked one side
and a tiny bassinet on a wooden stand was placed at the bottom. There was a
tall chest which had been painted in pale pastels and decorated with cartoon
decals.
Sylvie’s hands flew to her mouth. This pretty nursery was
not what she had expected, not this at all.
Chapter 22
She moved further into the little room, it was clean but the
atmosphere was closed up and suspended. There were no fluffy blankets on the
cot, no tiny teddy bear propped in the corner of the bassinet and no tinkling,
glittering mobile dangling from the ceiling hook. A display in a department
store would hold more life.
The surfaces were bare, covered with a thin layer of dust as
had been the rest of the house. The cleaner must be due to come soon. She
slid open the first three drawers of the dresser, there were no cute miniature outfits
or soft sheets and coverlets. This nursery was waiting, for a tiny inhabitant,
for the smell of milk and baby powder and the sound of lullabies. The rocking
chair in the corner was forlorn in its stillness, the room would have been
better picked up and packed away, so great was the air of abandonment.
She dragged open the lowest drawer, there was a flat packet
lying on the bottom and she reached in and lifted it. It was obvious
immediately that it was a frame, wrapped in a piece of towelling.
She placed the parcel onto the top of the dresser, her hands
were shaking and there was a risk it would be dropped and damaged. She
unfolded the soft fabric. In the bright picture a young, dark haired woman, in
the early
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