Read Online Whiteout by Ken Follett - Free Book Online

heartless, but she was not really so, Miranda thought. “It was on the radio. I haven’t spoken to Daddy yet, but it seems the poor boy became fond of a lab hamster and took it home.”
    â€œWhat did he do, have sex with it?”
    â€œIt probably bit him. He lived alone, so nobody called for help. At least that means he probably didn’t pass the virus to anyone else. All the same, it’s awful for Daddy. He won’t show it, but he’s sure to feel responsible.”
    â€œHe should have gone in for a less hazardous branch of science—something like atomic weapons research.”
    Miranda smiled. She was especially pleased to see Olga today. She was glad of the chance of a quiet word. The whole family was about to gather at Steepfall, their father’s house, for Christmas. She was bringing her fiancé, Ned Hanley, and she wanted to make sure Olga would be nice to him. But she approached the subject in a roundabout way. “I hope this doesn’t spoil the holiday. I’ve been looking forward to it so much. You know Kit’s coming?”
    â€œI’m deeply sensible of the honor our little brother is doing us.”
    â€œHe wasn’t going to come, but I talked him round.”
    â€œDaddy will be pleased.” Olga spoke with a touch of sarcasm.
    â€œHe will, actually,” Miranda said reproachfully. “You know it broke his heart to fire Kit.”
    â€œI know I’ve never seen him so angry. I thought he would kill someone.”
    â€œThen he cried.”
    â€œI didn’t see that.”
    â€œNor did I. Lori told me.” Lori was Stanley’s housekeeper. “But now he wants to forgive and forget.”
    Olga stubbed her cigarette. “I know. Daddy’s magnanimity is boundless. Does Kit have a job yet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œCan’t you find him something? It’s your field, and he’s good.”
    â€œThings are quiet—and people know he was sacked by his father.”
    â€œHas he stopped gambling?”
    â€œHe must have. He promised Daddy he would. And he’s got no money.”
    â€œDaddy paid his debts, didn’t he?”
    â€œI don’t think we’re supposed to know.”
    â€œCome on, Mandy.” Olga was using Miranda’s childhood name. “How much?”
    â€œYou should ask Daddy—or Kit.”
    â€œWas it ten thousand pounds?”
    Miranda looked away.
    â€œMore than that? Twenty?”
    Miranda whispered, “Fifty.”
    â€œGood God! That little bastard pissed away fifty grand of our inheritance? Wait till I see him.”
    â€œAnyway, enough of Kit. You’re going to get to know Ned much better this Christmas. I want you to treat him as one of the family.”
    â€œNed should be one of the family by now. When are you getting married? You’re too old for a long engagement. You’ve both been married before—it’s not as if you have to save up for your trousseau.”
    This was not the response Miranda was hoping for. She wanted Olga to feel warm toward Ned. “Oh, you know what Ned’s like,” she said defensively. “He’s lost in his own world.” Ned was editor of The Glasgow Review of Books, a respected cultural-political journal, but he was not practical.
    â€œI don’t know how you stand it. I can’t abide vacillation.”
    The conversation was not going the way Miranda wanted. “Believe me, it’s a blessed relief after Jasper.” Miranda’s first husband had been abully and a tyrant. Ned was the opposite, and that was one of the reasons she loved him. “Ned will never be organized enough to boss me around—half the time he can’t remember what day it is.”
    â€œStill, you managed perfectly well without a man for five years.”
    â€œI did, and I was proud of myself, especially when the economy turned down and they stopped paying me those big