In Her Shadow Read Online Free PDF Page A

picked up the phone. I could see from the caller display that it was John Lansdown, my colleague from the museum.
    I answered, tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, filled the kettle and plugged it in while Johnapologized for disturbing me. ‘Rina said you’d had a bit of a turn,’ he said. ‘I wanted to make sure you were all right.’
    ‘What did she tell you, John?’
    He hesitated a moment. Then he said: ‘She told me you thought you’d seen a ghost.’
    ‘It was a migraine,’ I lied. ‘They affect my eyes.’
    ‘I thought it must have been something like that. How are you now?’
    ‘I’m absolutely fine, John. It’s kind of you to ring but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be back at work as normal in the morning.’
    ‘I know you will, Hannah, that’s not why I called. Actually I wanted to ask you a favour.’
    ‘Oh yes?’
    ‘Charlotte’s out, the girls are at a sleepover and there’s no food in the house. I was going to go out for supper and I wondered if you’d like to join me.’
    I hesitated.
    ‘It would be a good opportunity to talk about the plans for the new museum annexe,’ John continued. ‘And I thought after the day you’ve had, you probably wouldn’t be in the mood for cooking either.’
    Still I hesitated. I had little doubt Rina had somehow engineered this invitation to make sure I was not left on my own that evening.
    ‘Low blood sugar is very bad for migraines, you know,’ John said. ‘Although if you have other plans …’
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, I’d love to come.’
    ‘Great,’ said John. ‘That’s great. I’ll pick you up in an hour.’
    I tried to pull myself together before John arrived. I showered, dried my hair and dressed, then listened to a recording of Beethoven’s Prelude for Piano as I wandered about the flat barefoot, with the cat winding around my ankles. The gentle music soothed me. The Brechts had taughtme the alchemy of music. They were experts in the subject. They knew precisely which music would comfort and which would cause pain, and how music’s echo lives on in the mind long after the record has finished.
    I didn’t want to think about the Brechts. The curtains were drawn, all the lamps were lit. I was in my home. I could choose to listen to whatever I wanted, or I could choose silence. I felt safe. When the buzzer rang, I slipped on my shoes and picked up a jacket. John was waiting for me on the pavement outside the front door.
    I’d known John for eight years, since I’d taken up my position at the museum. Rina had told me he came from a wealthy background, and he’d obviously had a good education, but he was so down-to-earth that it was easy to forget his privileges. It didn’t matter that our upbringings could hardly have been more different; they never interfered with our friendship. I enjoyed his company and respected his methodical approach to work. We shared an interest in ancient history and often John lent me books, or forwarded links to articles or discussions he thought would interest me. He also enjoyed circulating quirky or funny cuttings and pictures – he found humour in many things and it was largely due to his buoyancy that the museum was such a happy place to work in. The whole team liked John, but I believed I was closest to him. He teased me, gently, if ever I became too immersed in a project or took something too seriously. He told me off if I worked too late. I always felt as if he were looking out for me, and I reciprocated.
    John was one of the most highly regarded academics in his field but it was not unusual to find him standing in the museum involved in an earnest discussion about the comparative ferocity of different dinosaurs with a group of small children. He wasn’t being patronizing, he was genuinely interested in their opinions and ideas.
    John was wonderful.
    I didn’t feel the same about his wife. Charlotte worked in the Admissions Department at the University. I’d met her on many