Cat's Cradle Read Online Free PDF Page A

wants money. That kind of family ain’t worth finding. I should know, as my three brothers are all useless scroungers. If I could lose ’em, I would. Listen to me, miss: you keep away from ’em. Let sleepin’ dogs lie.’
    Mr Beamish turned back to me. ‘Though I hesitate to award Bob any points for intelligence (that would not bode well for his hat size), it seems to me that his advice is sound.’
    Bob gave a snort.
    â€˜But what if Mrs Moir really can tell me about my parents, about how I came to be left?’
    â€˜And ’ow will you know if she’s tellin’ you the truth?’ replied Bob. ‘Once she knows what you want to ’ear, she’ll spin you a tale and expect you to pay for the privilege. It’s like when Mr Beamish ’ere gets ’em in the dock: they’ll sing any tune to get what they want.’
    â€˜But I can’t just leave it. The uncertainty will torment me like a . . . a tooth that needs pulling.’
    Mr Sheridan sighed. ‘That is exactly why I was reluctant to tell you of the letter, Cat. How could anyone resist the urge to know the truth?’
    â€˜What do you suggest I do?’ I looked up at the three men before me. My guardian looked concerned, Mr Beamish was frowning, Bob seemed lost in thought.
    â€˜I know what I’d do,’ Bob ventured. ‘I’d try and catch ’er out. Mr Beamish, ’e looks so soft the villains are all lulled into thinkin’ ’e’s easy – that’s when ’e goes in for the kill.’
    Mr Beamish gave me an apologetic smile. I would have to take Bob’s word for it that the barrister had steel beneath the fluff.
    â€˜My clerk is right. A direct approach will not reveal the truth.’
    I hugged my arms to my sides. After the happiness of my return, my soap-bubble mood had burst and I was now feeling empty and out of spirits.
    â€˜I’ll have to think about it.’
    Mr Sheridan rose, signalling the end of our visit. ‘Indeed, I believe that is the best course of action. Any decision must be weighed very carefully.’
    Mr Beamish patted my hand. ‘And if I can be of service, don’t hesitate to call on me.’
    â€˜Nor me,’ chipped in Bob. ‘Anythink for you, dasher.’ With a chuckle, he showed us out.
    On my return to the butcher’s shop I avoided answering Syd’s questions as to where Mr Sheridan had taken me, making some vague excuse about catching up on theatre news. Syd wasn’t fooled but knew me well enough not to force the issue.
    â€˜I’ll leave you to settle in then,’ he said, setting my bag on the bed in the little box bedroom.
    â€˜Thanks, Syd.’
    â€˜I should warn you, Cat: news ’as spread that you’re back. Don’t think of makin’ an early night of it: the boys’ll be round later.’
    I nodded. ‘And I’d love to see them too.’
    â€˜All right then. I’ll . . . er . . . I’ll just go.’
    He hovered uncertainly by the door, tugging at the cotton scarf knotted around his neck.
    â€˜Yes.’
    He cleared his throat, his gaze loaded with unspoken feelings. ‘I’m really pleased you’re back, Cat.’
    â€˜I guessed.’ I gave him a small, regretful smile, aware that my feelings for him did not match his for me.
    With a nod to say that was settled then, he strode off down the stairs.
    Alone at last, I busied myself unpacking my belongings. Guilt about my inability to feel more than sisterly love for Syd ate at me. Perhaps I should have gone to Grosvenor Square after all? That would have been fairer to Syd, and not got his hopes up.
    I pushed open the little window, dislodging the sparrows perched on the ledge. They flew off with startled peeps over the rooftops opposite. Oh, why couldn’t I resolve my place in the world by simply falling in love with Syd and settle down to a blameless, respectable life as a