Honeycote Read Online Free PDF Page B

had perfect timing.
    She turned the last corner of the sinuous drive and smiled as she saw his car and the welcoming light in the brewery. Then she slammed on the brakes. There was another car. She only needed a split second to take in its identity before spinning round and accelerating back the way she came. Now her heart really was racing, and it wasn’t with anticipation. Her mouth was dry with fear. It was the first time she’d come so close, and even now she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t been seen.
    Kelly had been sitting as patiently as she could in Patrick’s car. Although it was bathed in a pool of light from the office window, she couldn’t help feeling nervous, and she was getting cold. She touched the icy tip of her nose and pulled down the vanity mirror to see if it was going red. As she did so a sudden flash glanced off the glass. She turned, and caught the tail lights of a car disappearing up the hill. She could just make out the number plate mounted on an electric-blue bumper. She frowned. There was only one person with an electric blue car that she knew of.
    She felt glad at least that it had provided her with an excuse. She wouldn’t have liked to interrupt Patrick otherwise. He was strangely unpredictable, all over her one minute and distant the next, and she couldn’t understand why. She scrambled out of the car, smoothed her dress down over her hips and headed into the brewery.
    As she walked into the office, Patrick scowled but Mr Liddiard smiled. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her, but then he was always nice.
    ‘Sorry, but someone came down the drive.’ There was an ominous silence. ‘I was scared; it’s spooky – ’
    Mr Liddiard came over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. His breath smelled of booze; not all stale and beery like some of her father’s customers, but he’d definitely been drinking.
    ‘I’m sorry, Kelly. I didn’t realize Patrick had left you out there all on your own.’ He turned to his son. ‘Why don’t you take Kelly home and I’ll finish up here. There’s nothing we can resolve at this late hour anyhow.’
    Kelly thought Patrick looked rather cross, and she didn’t look forward to the drive home. Nerves, as usual, made her babble.
    ‘I think it was Mrs Oakley’s car. You know, that gorgeous Boxster her husband bought her. Lucky thing…’
    By now, Patrick was looking crosser than ever, and Kelly decided she’d better shut up.

3
    Mandy Sherwyn sat glumly on her suitcase, hugging her coat round her as protection against the spiteful breeze that was buffeting a new batch of leaves across the drive. The caretaker, had he not already set off for Christmas at his sister’s, would have been exasperated as he’d painstakingly swept the full length of the drive that morning in anticipation of the parents’ arrival.
    A car turned in through the gates and Mandy rose to her feet, but she soon sat down again. No taxi firm her father used would dream of sending an ancient, mud-spattered Volvo to pick her up. She watched with interest as the car rattled to a halt, the passenger door opened and an ebullient Irish wolfhound, looking more like an animated loo brush, ejected itself at top speed. It streaked across the lawn, barking urgently, and proceeded to dig up Miss Cowper’s prize rose bed. A young woman emerged from the driver’s side, oblivious to the dog’s trail of destruction, and ran anxiously up the steps leading from the car park to the wide path that bordered the front of the school.
    As she approached Mandy could see that she was, in fact, older than she appeared from a distance. Late thirties, she guessed, but still enchantingly pretty. Her chestnut hair fell loose and wavy to her shoulders, while her eyes perfectly matched the voluminous toffee-coloured jumper that was obviously cashmere, but was made totally understated by ancient, faded 501s and a pair of suede loafers that were irretrievably scuffed but undeniably expensive.
    Mandy