Hell Hath No Fury Read Online Free PDF

eyes were an indelible part of her memory of that terrible day.
    She bit her lip, swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat at the recollection, conscious that he was waiting for her to answer.
    â€˜I’m looking for a street map . . . Do you stock them?’
    â€˜I think I can find you one.’
    He walked towards the counter and began sorting through the contents of a rotary metal stand that stood near the till.
    As she watched his bony hands at work she found that it took every vestige of will power not to cry out, not to run out into the street. She could feel them on her body, kneading her flesh, poking, probing. A shudder went through her. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible.
    â€˜Here you are, have a look through these.’ He spread out a selection of local maps for her inspection.
    He obviously hadn’t recognized her . . . not yet, at any rate, she thought with relief as she selected the map she decided would be most useful.
    There was still no glimmer of recognition on Sandy Franklin’s face as she paid him. He popped her purchase inside a bag printed with the shop’s name, address and phone number, and handed it to her.
    Maureen found it hard to believe that he’d failed to remember her. She had known it was him the minute he’d spoken, even before she’d seen his red hair and prominent features.
    It was better this way, of course. She felt exultant; it left her more in control of the situation.
    She returned to her car and spread out the map on the roof. Referring to the list she’d drawn up in the library, Maureen pinpointed where the other four lived.
    The High Street had been the only listing for the name Franklin, so she assumed that Sandy lived over the shop. Not that it mattered. She knew now where she could locate him.
    She wrote down the names of John Moorhouse, Dennis Jackson and Brian Patterson in the margin of the map, and gave each of them an identifying number. Next she located the road in which each of them lived and circled it in red. There wasn’t enough room to write in each name so she added the appropriate reference number.
    It was now almost midday. Stowing the clipboard into the boot of her car she slipped a notebook into her handbag along with the map. Then she locked up the car and went to find somewhere to have lunch.
    There were plenty of places to choose from in the High Street, but in the end Maureen decided it would be either the Eatery or the Benbury Arms. She studied the menu on the window of the Eatery, an upmarket restaurant, and decided she didn’t really want a three-course meal, so she settled for the pub.
    It was not quite half past twelve, so there were not a great many customers in the Benbury Arms. The two men who were leaning on the lounge bar counter chatting earnestly to each other moved to one side to make way for her.
    â€˜A glass of dry white wine, please,’ she told the fresh-faced young barman.
    â€˜And something to eat?’ He passed her a printed menu card.
    She ordered a cheese omelette and a side salad.
    He wrote out her bill and passed her the top copy. ‘Take a seat, and we’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready. We call out the number on your bill,’ he added.
    Maureen thanked him and made her way to a window seat. She angled her chair so that she could keep an eye on everyone who came into the pub as well as those who walked by in the street outside. So far she hadn’t seen a single soul she recognized except Sandy Franklin. Yet she had known countless people when she’d lived in Benbury.
    While she waited for her omelette she studied the map, particularly the roads she’d circled in red. They were well scattered. It could be an interesting afternoon locating them all, she mused as she sipped her wine.
    She wondered how they would react if she knocked on the door and reminded them of who she was.
    â€˜Here you are then,’ a cheery voice said,