Blackthorn Winter Read Online Free PDF Page B

"King Henry the
Eighth might have come here to eat—or wait, was he dead by then?" She was a bookworm who knew more about history than people twice her age—or at least that's what Dad always said. She danced her way inside the Old Ship now. "Hey, maybe
Shakespeare
ate here!"
    The room inside was dimly lit, with a bar lined with stools at one end, and tables at the other end. The air smelled of old oak and smoke—though no one was smoking at the tables. Maybe it was the residue left from centuries of cook fires. The smoky smell mingled with the smells of meat and onions, creating a warm fog, and I was glad because it would mask any other, weirder smell that might try to find me.
    Liza Pethering had walked with us as far as the Old Ship. She came inside, but was now saying further goodbyes and arranging with Mom what time she'd come over in the morning. While they were talking, a girl about my age turned from the bar and walked over to us with a smile that faded away. I thought at first she was mad because she thought I was with Duncan or something—but then I saw she was glaring at Liza. The girl's eyes were made up with heavy dark liner, and her hair was a deep royal purple. Very cool—though not my style. She had loads of earrings dangling from her ears, and over her very tight jeans she wore a neat white apron with a picture of a ship on it. "How many for dinner, then?" she asked Quent sullenly. Her voice was high and clipped. She gathered our coats and umbrellas and tossed them onto the coatrack in the corner.
    "Just six, Veronica," Quent told her. "Mrs. Pethering won't be eating with us."
    "Good," replied the girl, turning back and making a face. "Because I couldn't promise not to slip some poison into her beer if she sat herself in here." Quent chuckled at
that, as if Veronica had made a joke, but I noticed the girl with the purple hair wasn't laughing.
    "Well, good evening to you, too, Veronica, dear," gushed Liza. "So you're employed again, are you? How long do you think it will last this time, hmmm?" She laughed heartily and turned to Mom, adding in a confiding tone, "Our little Miss Pimms isn't exactly the most reliable of employees, shall we say? But she's old friends with Duncan, so when Quent suggested we hire her at the Emporium, we wanted to oblige. Bad move in the end, though. Isn't that right, dear?"
    The girl shot her a killer look, but Liza remained undaunted.
    "Hullo, Ronnie." To my surprise, it was Duncan who spoke up affably. But he left it to Quent to introduce us. Mom, always tactful, shook Veronica Pimms's hand and tried to find something to chat with her about.
    "So you're in school with Duncan, Veronica? Well, I hope you'll get to know Juliana, too, even though she'll still be doing homeschool, for a while at least. Maybe you can interest her in going to your school, and show her around a bit—"
    But Liza Pethering broke in again with a little derisive laugh before Veronica could reply. "Veronica Pimms at school?" Liza snorted. "Now there's a concept! She left ages ago, didn't you, dear? Or did they kick you out?" She gave Veronica a withering glance, then waved good-bye to the rest of us and left through the archway. "Ta-ra! See you tomorrow!"
    Veronica tossed her purple hair and led us over to a long table by the windows. "Someone ought to kill that bitch," she muttered darkly. "If you want my humble,
uneducated
opinion."

4
    While we ate, Quentin Carrington chatted with Mom about Blackthorn's art scene and all the people she'd be meeting the next night at his party. Ivy and Edmund played hangman with Duncan, who wrote letters on the paper place mat as they tried to guess the word he was thinking. I sat watching everyone, my head buzzing with tiredness, actually sort of glad that Duncan was too shy or too uninterested to talk to me. The way I was feeling, I doubted I could hold a sensible conversation. Everybody ordered fish and chips or chicken pie and chips or roast pork