[Churchminster #3] Wild Things Read Online Free PDF Page A

a big responsibility, but no one had such love and innate understanding of the countryside as Jed. She was sure he’d learn quickly. Frances had always found Jed a man of few words, but he seemed a very together young man who was devoted to his girlfriend. Frances thought of her own daughter Harriet, who worked for a glossy magazine in London. Harriet and Camilla were best friends, and Frances wished her daughter could find a nice stable chap. Frances had had high hopes for an officer in the army that Harriet had been seeing, but then he’d been posted abroad and the relationship had fizzled out.
    She turned away from the window. There was a huge pile of invites to stifling lunches, dinners and charity events that had to be replied to, but Frances’s normal efficiency had deserted her. Distractedly she wandered over to the radio and turned it on. A familiar song was playing, which took a few seconds to register.
    Heart catcher … You’re a heart catcher
    You’ve caught my heart and I don’t want it back …
    Frances gave a start. The song was by a rock star called Devon Cornwall, who owned a huge Gothic house on the edge of the village. Devon had moved into the village a few years back, when his career had been on the rocks, trying to start a new life. Then he’d met Frances , and the two had started an unlikely friendship, which had eventually led to a passionate affair.
    Not one other person in the world knew it, but Devon had written ‘Heart Catcher’ for her. She started singing along softly, every word seared into her for ever.
    Heart catcher, you’ve stopped me in my tracks
.
    In that moment, it was like Devon was in the room with her. Frances felt a brief twinge of elation. She had never dreamed of being unfaithful to Ambrose, but the marriage had been in trouble for years and Frances had found her world turned upside down when Devon had come into her life. There had been a chemistry between them she’d never felt with anyone before not even her husband. It was like they were soulmates.
    Their liaison had been short-lived. After much agonizing, Frances had felt she couldn’t go on living a lie, and had broken it off. Shortly afterwards, Devon’s career had picked up, and he’d been away touring pretty much ever since. They still kept in contact occasionally, with the odd text message or email, but Frances hadn’t heard from him for a while. She had told herself it was for the best: she had made the choice between Ambrose and Devon and chosen her husband. After all, it was her duty.
    A tremendous racket suddenly started outside. Frances ran back to the window and looked out. Ambrose had driven his quad bike into the new pergola. She pulled the window up and stuck her head out , Devon forgotten for the moment. ‘Ambrose! What on earth are you doing?’
    Her husband looked up, blue eyes sharper than ever against his red, wind-whipped cheeks. His black-and-white sheepdog Sailor was sitting on the back of the quad, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a red ribbon. ‘Who put that bloody thing here? I could have fallen off and killed myself!’
    Frances tutted. ‘You did! You told the gardener to do it last week. Don’t you remember?’
    Her husband looked puzzled and let out a loud guffaw. ‘I must be going mad. Bloody stupid place to put it.’ He revved up the engine and zoomed off, Sailor hanging on with his paws for dear life.
    Despite herself, Frances shook her head, smiling. Sometimes, Ambrose was like a little boy! Only last month he’d driven into a ditch after swerving to avoid a pheasant, and Jed had had to go and get the tractor to pull him out.
    She turned back to the radio. ‘Heart Catcher’ had ended and Devon was gone again, some nondescript pop song playing in his wake. Frances walked over and turned the radio off. The silence was almost deafening.
    She sighed and looked at the uninviting pile of letters. There was no point putting it off any longer: she was known for her prompt