Killing Me Softly Read Online Free PDF Page A

pull it down, Morgan told her she’d be quids in, able to name her price, though Jem had his doubts, and even Col goggled at the thought of anyone giving good money to buy this dump.
    Jem, Col, and Luce, a well-established trio. Christened Jeremy, Colin and Lucinda, nice middle-class names given to them by their nice middle-class parents. Some of whom might have smoked more than the odd joint in the sixties, lived in squats and worn flowers in their hair, but had now reformed and didn’t take kindly to their children following the same pattern.
    The three of them, with Morgan, formed the core of the house, others drifted in, as and when. Jem wished they were still on their own, as they’d once been, but Luce had this thing about sharing her good luck with others.
    She had her own standards. Usually, whenever she went home on one of her rare visits, she’d wear her most far-out gear, the clothes calculated to cause maximum annoyance to her mother, which meant they’d quarrel and she’d come back cross and moody, unlike her usual sunny self. But yesterday, when she’d had this letter from home, telling how the house had been burgled, ransacked, and her mum left in a state of collapse, she’d been off like a shot, wearing the sort of straight clothes she wouldn’t normally be seen dead in.
    Morgan had also taken himself off somewhere, though not with Luce, although she was his woman. He’d gone before she got the letter. Jem wished he knew when they were both likely to be back. His giro cheque had come and he had food to buy, for one thing. They mostly ate vegetarian, since it was cheaper, unless there was free food to be acquired, and not having any fridge to keep things fresh, vegetables had to be bought on a daily basis. He would need to calculate how much to buy. Jem was cursed, he sometimes thought, by this feeling of responsibility for everyone, not only for Col. Col was different, though, he needed Jem to take care of him.
    And that was another problem. Jem had the chance of some work, only a few hours a week, but the sort of job they all took when they could get it, casual work without too much effort needed, no responsibility and no questions asked. But if he took it, he was worried what might happen to Col if he wasn’t there to look out for him. Although Col was so clever, he was sometimes unpredictable, and you could never be certain what he’d take it into his head to do.

3
    Abigail Moon looked up from the pile of reports she’d been working on, hesitated, then determinedly swept them all together into a drawer. Sod the lot! She’d been up half the night on that useless surveillance, which in the end had fizzled out like a damp squib, and she’d sworn she was going to leave the office on time tonight if it killed her. Already she was twenty minutes later than she’d intended, having been overtaken by events, a not unheard-of occurrence. She had colleagues who thought she was in clover, working out in the sticks, here in Lavenstock. Let them just try it.
    Tonight, however, she was Abigail Moon, private citizen, with the prospect of a free weekend after tomorrow, a woman who was entertaining at home the man who was coming to feature most largely in her life. Ben had told her there was something important he wanted to say to her and if it was what she thought it was, she’d been thinking a lot about what her answer would be. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it. But, like women everywhere, she felt the need to pave the way, in the traditional appeasing manner, through his stomach. Truth be known, as far as cooking went, he could beat her into a cocked hat (not single-minded enough about it, her mother said, and Abigail was bound to agree) but under pressure she could come up with the goods, and she’d promised herself that for once she’d present him with a meal which wouldn’t suffer by comparison. She put the light out,