Come Little Children Read Online Free PDF

forkfuls of lamb into his mouth, Camilla thought to herself that business must have been going well.
Lamb shanks and scallops, Shiraz and crème brûlée. God grant me the leftovers
.
    The kitchen door sprung open again and the woman named Laura came out carrying a smaller tray. She set it down in front of an empty chair and then ran to see how Brutus was doing.
    Camilla gulped, stomach gurgling, and walked over to the empty seat.
I guess I’ll help myself then
. She sat down and unfolded the cloth napkin beside the tray, laid it in her lap, and picked up a polished fork.
    Suddenly the room was silent.
    Camilla looked down the table to see all six family members staring at her like she had just committed a crime.
    “S-Sorry,” Camilla apologized. “I…uh…I thought this plate was for me.”
    “Yours?” the old woman said. She got up and crossed the room, staring Camilla down as she passed over the rug. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Prim’s and Proper’s.”
    “Prim and Proper?”
    Below, a couple of synchronized meows answered Camilla’s question. She looked down to see two black cats arching their spines against her chair.
    “Oh, I’m—I’m sorry.” Camilla jumped out of the seat, and the two cats hopped on.
    The old woman reached forward and lifted the lid off the silver tray to reveal a block of Fancy Feast. “We didn’t want Brutus eating alone.” The cats dove their noses in and Camilla turned bright red, hunching over unattractively to try and make herself seem as small as possible.
    “You’re Camilla?” another voice asked.
    Camilla looked down the table and made eye contact with a man about her age. He was the only one who hadn’t spoken yet, clearly the youngest, with a boyish face and the kind of sensible haircut from the fifties that sort of just fell into place, like Anthony Perkins’ in
Friendly Persuasion
or
The Matchmaker
.
    Camilla nodded, and there was a moment of silence when neither of them said anything else.
    “Enough pleasantries,” the old woman announced. “Dinner’s over.”
    “Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves?” Laura asked.
    “Why? She’ll forget our names anyway.”
    “Actually,” Camilla piped up, then added timidly, “I think I’ve got them.”
    No one said anything.
    Camilla hated the silence, so she raised a shaky finger and began pointing out the people at the table one by one, starting with the old woman.
    “You’re Moira; you interviewed me. Brutus picked me up. Jasper’s still wearing his director’s name tag. You’re Laura andyou’re Lucas—married, I assume, because of the matching wedding bands. And”—she stared at the boy with the young face and Perkins haircut, narrowing her gaze—“you’re the only one I didn’t catch.”
    “Peter,” said the boy.
    “Peter. Nice meeting you.”
    Lucas, Peter’s broad-shouldered brother, grinned across the table. “Impressive!”
    “Yes, impressive,” Moira dismissed with a wave of her hand. “But dinner’s over. Back to work.”
    “Work?” Camilla whispered under her breath, checking her watch.
    “Yes,” Moira hissed. She perked an eyebrow to emphasize that her hearing was razor sharp. “You brought company, didn’t you?”
    A door opened up to a wide corridor. Moira led Camilla inside, her high heels clacking down the hall at a brisk pace. This part of the house was different: the decor had shifted from polished-wood panels and warm rugs to bare white walls and cold tiling.
    “That one.” Moira pointed to a set of swing doors with porthole windows. “I’ll bring the gurney.”
    As Moira disappeared around a corner, Camilla put her hand on one of the double doors and pushed inside.
    The space was dimly lit and steeped with the unique embalming room scent of bleach and formaldehyde. There were two washing stations—each equipped with a long porcelain table, a vintage Turner embalming machine, and an instrument cart—and along each of the walls was a series of handmade drawers