Read Online Why Aren't They Screaming? by Joan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

up to find a man standing in front of her.
    â€˜Hello.’ His tone was suspicious and far from friendly. ‘Is Clara in?’
    Another neighbour? Loretta wondered. ‘Not at the moment,’ she said briskly, ignoring his hostility. ‘She went to church, oh’ – she looked at her watch – ‘about an hour and a half ago. She should be back soon. Or would you like me to give her a message?’
    The man looked blank.
    â€˜No thanks, I live here. And who are you?’
    For a moment, Loretta was lost for words. She stared at the new arrival, trying to work out who he might be. Some sort of relative, she guessed, taking in his dark hair – like Imo’s – and pale skin. Clara’s son? Much too old; he looked to be in his early forties, although his receding hair could be deceptive. A younger brother? That seemed more likely. But in that case, why was he living at Baldwin’s? Loretta realized the man was still waiting for her reply, and hastily introduced herself. He shook her outstretched hand perfunctorily.
    â€˜Jeremy Frere,’ he announced. ‘I’m Clara’s husband. You say you’re a friend of hers? I don’t think I’ve heard her mention you.’
    â€˜More a friend of a friend,’ Loretta admitted, still engaged in the process of revising her picture of Clara’s domestic arrangements. Why hadn’t Clara mentioned the fact that she had a husband? It was hardly the sort of thing that could have slipped her mind. Loretta realized she had simply assumed that Clara was divorced or widowed. But surely this chap Jeremy – what had he said his surname was? Loretta had been so taken aback by his revelation of his relationship to Clara that she hadn’t taken it in – wasn’t Imo’s father? She examined him covertly, taking in his bright blue eyes and unlined skin. If it wasn’t for the hair, he might easily pass for thirty-five. Of one thing she was certain: Jeremy was definitely his wife’s junior, and by some years. She realized he was speaking to her, and his tone was less unfriendly now they’d been introduced.
    â€˜I’d completely forgotten about this church business. Only started a couple of weeks ago.’ He laughed, looking backacross the valley with absent-minded admiration for the view. ‘Clara never went near a church till she found the vicar was on her side about this Libyan business.’ He moved towards the conservatory. ‘Drink? I’m going to have a lager. I’ve just driven down from London and my throat’s like sandpaper.’
    Loretta said she’d like an orange juice. Jeremy returned a couple of minutes later and handed her a half-full glass. ‘We seem to be running out. I expect Clara forgot to do the shopping again. You here for the weekend?’ He settled into a chair next to hers.
    â€˜Actually, I’m moving into the cottage for a few days,’ Loretta said, gesturing towards it with her left hand. ‘I’ve been ill and Clara very kindly –’
    â€˜You’re
moving into the cottage? But you can’t be! I
told
Clara before I went to New York – I’m sorry, there’s been some mistake.’ He stopped, glowering at her.
    â€˜I – I don’t
think
so,’ Loretta began hesitantly. ‘That is, Clara did ring and ask if I wanted the cottage. She didn’t say anything about–’
    â€˜Shit!’ Jeremy sat with pursed lips, his thin fingers drumming impatiently on the arm of his chair. Then, as if he’d suddenly remembered her presence, he leaned across and touched Loretta lightly on the arm. ‘Sorry, love, it’s not your fault. I’ll sort it out with Clara when she gets back from her devotions, or whatever it is she does in church. So tell me, when did Wayne leave? I’m sorry he went without saying goodbye, he was rather a friend of mine. That’s how he came to be