A Lesson in Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

an excellent reason, Sandra—you were engaged to be married, and your husband-to-be had found a good job.” Maisie held up the sherry bottle. “A small one? I’m going to have a glass before we sit down to eat.”
    “That would be very nice, thank you.”
    Maisie poured two glasses of sherry, handed one to Sandra, and sat down on the armchair opposite the sofa. She lost no more time in getting to the point.
    “There’s something terribly wrong, Sandra. What is it, and how can I help you?”
    As Sandra sipped the sherry, tears came to her eyes. She brushed them away and sat with both hands clutching the small glass.
    “I’m a widow, Miss Dobbs.”
    “Oh, Sandra, my dear girl.” Maisie set her glass on the table and came to her side; and though she instinctively wanted to put her arm around the distraught woman’s shoulders, instead she remained close enough for Sandra to feel a caring presence, but not so close as to stifle her. Maisie calculated the poor girl was only twenty-four years of age, if that.
    “What happened? I saw Eric only a few weeks ago, when I took my motor car into the garage for some repair work—it couldn’t have been more than a month past.” Choked with sudden grief, Maisie could barely finish the sentence.
    “I buried him a fortnight ago. There was an accident at the garage. The man he worked for had a new customer with a few cars he wanted looked after—a well-to-do new customer, is all I can say—so he had Eric working all hours. Not that he was complaining, because we wanted to get into a flat on our own, instead of living in the loft above the garage, so we needed the overtime money. Even though it had been converted for living quarters, being up in that loft was still like living in a stable.”
    “How did the accident happen?”
    “Eric was tired, very tired. He said that if he didn’t finish the job on time, then his employer could easily find another bloke to replace him. They were both working hard, him and his boss, Reg Martin.”
    “Reg is a good man—diligent and honest. And Eric’s work was first class.”
    “Anyway, this customer kept coming in and going on, saying he wanted the motors in double-quick time. I’m not sure of the story, but as far as I know, he’d bought them cheap, about six of them to start with, from posh people not being able to keep up because they’d run short of money—I suppose they sold the motor cars for whatever they could get. So after buying them up and getting them on the road looking nice and shiny, this man was selling them for more money somewhere else—he only wanted enough repairs done so money passed hands with no questions.” She shrugged and wiped her eyes.
    Maisie reached out and took Sandra’s hand, allowing the stricken young woman to continue.
    “It was all a funny business, really, but I know Reg was glad of the work—you can’t turn anything down these days.”
    “What happened to Eric, Sandra?” asked Maisie.
    She looked down, her eyes red-rimmed with tears. “They’d lifted the engine out of one of the motors, with a block and tackle, and Eric was leaning in under it. Then suddenly one of the chains went and the whole lot gave way. He didn’t go quick, either. I was coming down the road when I heard the screams, heard Reg shouting out for help. Someone came running and went for the ambulance. I knew there and then that it was Eric, so I ran as fast as I could, and . . . ” She shook her head as if to rid herself of the images in her head. “All I could do was hold his hand. I was just about able to reach in and . . . hold his hand. He bled to death.” She leaned into Maisie’s arms, and as Maisie rocked her until the keening subsided, she knew the image of Sandra’s young husband’s final moments would never leave her.
    They sat for some time, before the younger woman sat up and apologized. “I’m sorry, Miss, I shouldn’t—”
    “Sandra, you’ve had a terrible shock. And you are