Finders and Keepers Read Online Free PDF Page A

taught me as much as I taught you.’
    â€˜There you are, Harry. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ Edyth ran up the stairs when she saw Harry and Billy leaving the nursery. ‘Mari’s made a bon voyage cake; it’s got a red ribbon round it … Granddad, you all right?’
    Harry put his arm around Billy’s shoulders when he began to cough, helping him back to the nursery window seat and lowering him on to it. To his alarm, Billy’s cough grew sharper and more pronounced, his breathing more laboured. Seeing him fumble in his pocket, Harry produced his own handkerchief.
    â€˜Edyth, run downstairs and get a glass of water.’
    His sister stared at them, mesmerized.
    â€˜Edyth!’ Harry looked down at his grandfather as his sister backed towards the door. To his horror, bright red blood was pouring from Billy’s mouth. He held his handkerchief to Billy’s lips. ‘Edyth,’ he struggled to keep calm, ‘please, go downstairs. Tell Dad to call a doctor.’
    She turned and fled. Seconds later he heard a scream and a series of thuds.
    Still coughing blood, Billy tried to rise to his feet. He pushed Harry away from him, then fell back and pointed to the door.
    â€˜I’m going to get help, Granddad.’
    Billy nodded weakly and leaned against the window pane.
    Harry ran on to the landing. The band had stopped playing. A crowd had gathered around Edyth, who was lying face down at the foot of the stairs. His mother and Lloyd were crouching over her.
    â€˜Dad?’ Harry had to call three times before his stepfather looked up. ‘We need an ambulance.’
    Lloyd was hoarse with shock. ‘The phone’s disconnected. Joey’s gone to fetch the doctor in his car.’
    Harry’s voice rose precariously. ‘It’s Granddad. We need an ambulance for Granddad as well.’

Chapter Two
    David Ellis set his back to the majestic sweep of the Brecon Beacons, shaded his eyes and studied the stretch of road that ran in front of his family’s isolated farmhouse. It wound from the market town of Brecon, through miles of hills and valleys that were the lonely domain of shepherds, sheep and predatory wildlife; past remote farms, smallholdings and tiny hamlets down through the Swansea Valley to the coast.
    A trap was moving along the road at a smart pace. Its varnished panels glittered in the sunlight and the white pony trotting between the shafts was a highly-bred hayburner. And, as if that weren’t enough, the driver was wearing a frock coat and top hat. David knew few men who could afford to dress like that on a Sunday, let alone a weekday, and only one who could afford to buy an expensive new rig. He wasn’t a farmer.
    David kneed the last lamb that his dog, Merlyn, had rounded up into the dry-stone pen. He fastened the rough gate with a wooden peg, pulled the grubby cap that had been his father’s from his pocket, threw it on his head, whistled to the dog and raced across the fields.
    He found his eldest sister, Mary, in the yard behind their house. Their six-year-old brother, Matthew, was glaring resentfully at her from a perch on the wall of the pigsty that she was cleaning, their one-year-old brother, Luke, on his lap. Matthew considered himself old and strong enough for farm work, yet Mary invariably set him to watch Luke who had just begun to walk and was into everything he shouldn’t be. On the farm that was most things.
    â€˜Agent’s on his way,’ David gasped.
    Mary straightened her back and leaned on the broom she was using to sweep out the muck. ‘How many lambs do we have ready for market?’
    â€˜I’ve shut a hundred and forty in the pen.’
    â€˜Then, there must be close on a hundred left in the hills,’ she said anxiously.
    â€˜None you can see from the road.’
    â€˜If he finds out that we’ve set them aside -’
    â€˜We need at least sixty to replace the ones