Always: You'll Never Walk Alone Read Online Free PDF

noticing for the first time how small it really was. Two paces to the door turn right, three paces to the wall, turn right and two paces back to the bed. Pulling some clothes on I went back downstairs and into the kitchen. Without Sarah, Sylvie was busy over the stove. When I came in, she looked up an expression of concern on her face. “How’re you feeling?”
    “I’ll be alright. Could I have some soup?”
    “Of course you can.” And she brought me a big bowl.
    As I took the first mouthful, I realized just how hungry I was. I’d had nothing to eat since the sandwich that morning. I finished the bowl and Sylvie refilled it.
    “D’you want anything else?” She said, giving me a hunk of bread.
    I shook my head, eating without tasting, the bread and soup.
    The tavern was as crowded as it had been for the last couple of nights, so finishing the food, I started cleaning dishes. “You don’t have to do that” Sylvie objected. But I couldn’t just sit around doing nothing and within minutes I was rushing backwards and forwards between the bar and the kitchen, emptying glasses, delivering food and cleaning up. Luckily, we had a delivery of beer during the day so besides the regular couple of drunks everyone else was much more civil than had been the case yesterday. Before I knew it, it was closing time and the last customer finally stumbled out into the night.
    We sat around the bar, John, Ron, Sylvie, Victoria and myself. Sylvie made some fresh tea, which we were drinking, whilst trying to figure out who could possibly have abducted Sarah, and why?
    We were getting nowhere, when a chill slithered down my spine. I knew who it was. “H.B. was the insignia on the coach… Henry Beecham, Lord Beecham. At the cathedral, his friend called him Henry it must have been him. Who else would own a carriage like that?” Ron was looking at me strangely, so I asked, “What’s the matter?” At first, he didn’t want to say but I was insistent, then finally…
    “I’ve heard many stories about Lord Beecham; I don’t know how many are true. He’s a distant cousin to the King with vast estates in Cornwall. He was accused of murdering one of the Kings maids. It’s said he’d raped her and she’d become pregnant. At the Kings New Years ball, as Lord and Lady Beecham arrived, the maid ran out and accused him. She was quickly dragged out amidst profuse apologies. The next morning she was found disembowelled. Of course, nothing could be proved even though another maid said she had seen the two of them together that same night. But, who would take the word of a maid over the Kings cousin?
    Lady Beecham was killed in a horse riding accident shortly thereafter, and since then the tales of Lord Beecham’s perversions have escalated. He’s what they call a collector. He collects mostly young girls but occasionally boys, he travels the countryside and when he finds someone that appeals to his taste, he buys them from their parents or employers, promising shelter in exchange for work. If he can’t buy them then he’s not above kidnapping them. He keeps them at Castle Harvard on the south coast of Cornwall. I won’t repeat the stories I’ve heard but if he has taken Sarah then you’d best forget her. The police won’t help and nobody else can.”

 
    Chapter Four
     
    I was too stunned… too tired to speak. This couldn’t be happening. It’s a bad dream like the night before; surely I’ll wake up in a minute. I was staring into the thick hot tea, not knowing what to do next. Maybe I’ll just wait a bit longer surely someone will come and wake me. I don’t know how long I sat there before I noticed the silence in the room. Lifting my head, they were all looking at me with varying degrees of concern or worry on their faces. Even Victoria, who I’d never seen get emotional, was staring at me, and I noticed a tear in the corner of her eye… Then I knew… This wasn’t a dream… There’d be no waking up!
    “I’m going to