Read Online The Turtle Run by Marie Evelyn - Free Book Online

trying to remove temptation by blocking one online gambling site after another until in the end she had had to tearfully beg Joe to either break his habit or say goodbye to the computer. It was her tears rather than threats that seemed to do the trick and, until a few evenings ago, he had almost ceased using it.
    Now no sooner was he home from the garage and changed out of his oil-stained clothes than he was sitting in front of the monitor. While their mother was busy preparing dinner, Becky sneaked into the study to see what he was up to. She was surprised to find him studying a YouTube clip of a battle re-enactment.
    â€˜Battle of Sedgemoor,’ he said casually, as she peered over his shoulder. ‘You know, you should go to Somerset and check out the battleground.’
    Becky smiled – an automatic response to her brother’s suggestions – but later when they were eating realised this was probably good advice.
    As soon as the meal was over she rang Clara, who sounded harassed.
    â€˜I didn’t think I’d bought that much since I’ve been in England but there’s so many things lying round the house that I realise weren’t here before. God knows how I’ve acquired them all. Furniture, plants. I swear my objets d’art have been breeding.’
    Becky laughed. ‘Can’t you just leave them for the next tenants?’
    â€˜The agent came round today to inspect the premises; you know, to check for any damage. The stupid man bashed his head on that hanging basket in the hall and I fear it put him in a bad mood. He said that all the clutter had to go. He was really quite rude.’
    Becky gasped. ‘What about the garden, Clara? Did they mind you making, um, a few changes?’
    Clara gave a mischievous giggle. ‘Making some improvements, you mean, Becky. And no, unless I had dumped a mattress in the garden, the silly agent wouldn’t have noticed what was outside the house. Now tell me, is it normal in England to leave a few things on the pavement with a sign saying ‘help yourself’?’
    â€˜It would be normal in some areas but not Hutton, I’m afraid.’ Becky could imagine the middle-class neighbours’ horrified expressions at the sight of bric-a-brac – however expensive – on their illustrious pavement. ‘Can’t Matthew find space for things in Noak Hall?’
    â€˜What’s Noak Hall?’
    Having just signed a non-disclosure agreement, Becky knew Matthew was highly secretive about his business practices but was the neo-classical manor even a secret from his own mother? Hardly a family mansion, then. ‘I’ve probably got it wrong,’ she said quickly. ‘I thought he had a place in Essex.’
    â€˜You must mean the Monmouth Hotel,’ said Clara. ‘Good idea. I’ll ask him.’
    â€˜On the subject of Monmouth,’ said Becky. ‘I wondered if it was worth me spending a couple of days in Somerset. There’s a Heritage Centre which would have records of the people who were sent to Barbados.’
    â€˜Records?’
    â€˜Yes, I thought if I started off with a list of names of the people transported, and who they were indentured to, then when we get to Barbados, I could try and trace what happened to them.’
    â€˜Oh, don’t worry, Becky. You must have enough on your plate.’
    â€˜No, not really.’
    â€˜You must have: I don’t know – packing to do, things to cancel.’
    Becky felt quite deflated. Why was Clara so reluctant for her to find out this information? ‘I don’t really have anything to arrange,’ she said. ‘And no clutter to dispose of – unless my mother feels the need to rent out my room for the three months I’m away, which I can guarantee she won’t.’
    There was a moment’s silence, which seemed unusual for a woman as bubbly and voluble as Clara.
    â€˜It’s good you’re so