Dead Jealous Read Online Free PDF Page A

tea,’ Bob said.
    ‘I’ll make it,’ Poppy volunteered, desperate for a minute alone to get her head straight.
    Mum shook her head. ‘No. I’ll do it.’ Jonathan shot a concerned glance Poppy’s way then followed Mum into the gloom of the caravan.
    As soon as she was out of Mum’s sight, Poppy felt the life go out of her like a rushing breath of wind. The bright paint of the caravan swayed in front of the dark spears of the fir trees and her knees sagged.
    A hand grabbed her elbow. ‘Come and sit down, lass,’ Bob said.
    Poppy sank into one of the deckchairs and squinted up through the pale morning sun at the concerned face staring back. She tried to ignore the sensation that a time bomb was ticking in her throat.
    ‘I’m all right. I’m just tired. It’s Mum who’s freaking out!’
    Bob snorted and collapsed into the other deckchair. She could hear Mum talking quietly to Jonathan, but not quietly enough.
    ‘The thought of her being lifted out of the water like that. When they said a girl had died – it brought it all back. I thought I’d lost her this time.’
    Bob caught her eye, his lips pressed together in what looked like a hang-in-there-kid! She felt sick and cold. Her eyes stung, but she wouldn’t cry. That would only worry Mum more.
    Police had cordoned off the lake and were wandering around the field in their luminous high-vis jackets. Three little kids kicked a ball about between the tents and yurts, their giggles the only music the gathering seemed able to produce.
    Mum reappeared, followed by Jonathan, and handed Poppy a mug of tea. The heat nipped at her still-frozen fingers. She pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands and used them like an oven mitt. Feeling Mum’s gaze on her again, she straightened up and forced herself to smile.
    ‘They said you knew the girl,’ Bob said.
    For a second she saw Beth’s face – the passion burning in her eyes. Then the fire faded and her face grew pale and waxy, dead and lifeless. She shivered and the image dissipated like ripples on water.
    ‘Not really. I just met her last night. She was really nice.’
    Bob shook his head. ‘It’s a flaming tragedy.’
    ‘So, what’ll happen? Will the festival go on?’ Jonathan asked.
    ‘That’s what the fuzz were here about. I’ll call the council together later this afternoon. But I reckon it’ll be a good excuse to shut us down.’
    ‘They won’t do that, surely!’ Mum said. She was thinking about the handfasting. Poppy got it – it was important to both of them. But a little niggling part of her was annoyed that they could even think about it. Beth was dead. It didn’t seem right that life should go on like nothing had happened.
    Before she could say anything, she was interrupted by a guy who couldn’t have looked more out of place if he was dressed in a pink tutu and fairy wings.
    ‘Pete! How are you, boy? I hear you’re the hero of the hour!’ Bob boomed.
    Poppy’s rescuer had changed into a blue check shirt, jeans and heavy-duty wellington boots. He looked even more out of place than Poppy did alongside all the hippy Pagan chic.
    Pete shrugged and his cheeks glowed pink. ‘Sally sent me down to ask after the lass. She’d come herself but she’s about fit to burst.’
    ‘Not long to go. When’s she due?’ Bob asked.
    ‘Any day now.’ Pete smiled at Poppy. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
    ‘Yeah, thanks.’
    ‘No problem. Sally said to tell you that you’re welcome up at the house whenever you like. I think she’d like the company, tell you the truth.’
    ‘Tell her I’ll be up to see her later,’ Bob said. ‘I’ll bring her some raspberry leaf tea, that’s supposed to help the baby along.’
    ‘She’d like that.’
    ‘Nice boy,’ Bob said, as the farmer ambled away. ‘His mum was a good friend to us when we first started John Barleycorn – letting us meet on their land. Had a lot of sympathy for the old ways. His father, on the other hand, was an old