Moreton's Kingdom Read Online Free PDF

a small bed in it,’ she decided obligingly. ‘The wee lad looks tired.’
    ‘And hungry!’ Katherine said with relief. ‘I’m sorry to have left it so late.’
    ‘That’s all right,’ the girl smiled. ‘We’re not too busy at this time of year, between Easter and Whit, and we generally have a room to spare.’ Sandy’s fair head reached just above the counter. ‘Will you take your meal together?’ she asked. ‘It would be a help not having to cook twice. There’s only one other guest and he likes to dine early.’ Katherine felt as tired as Sandy looked and she was also conscious of a mounting anger when she thought about Coralie who had placed them carelessly in this predicament. It was quite obvious that her former school friend hadn’t contacted her sister at Beck Cottage before she had sent them off on this wild goose chase, but by now she would surely know what had happened.
    When she phoned Coralie from the comfortable bedroom under the eaves there was no reply. Even Coralie’s flatmate appeared to be out. Drawing a swift breath, she took Sandy down to supper.
    Apart from the elderly fisherman who occupied a table at the window, they were alone in the dining-room. As the receptionist had pointed out, it was a slack time of the year, yet subconsciously she seemed to be waiting for someone else to appear. All that Coralie had told her about Sandy’s father came crowding into her mind, the fact that he was quite capable of a kidnap attempt where his son was concerned and the possibility of them being followed remaining uppermost in her thoughts as they ate the substantial meal which was set before them. It was such a satisfying meal that she was almost as sleepy as Sandy when it was over.
    ‘Perhaps you’d like to have your coffee after you’ve put your little boy to bed?’ the waitress suggested. ‘I’m in sole charge tonight, but it wouldn’t be any trouble. I generally have a cup myself around nine o’clock.’
    When Sandy finally dropped off to sleep Katherine phoned London again, but there was still no answer. Wondering what she had expected Coralie to do about their predicament, she sat in the small, comfortable snug with her pot of coffee till ten o’clock, trying not to fall asleep before she phoned for the third time.
    Going through the hall to the telephone box she had to pass the open door to the public bar where the hum of conversation and ready laughter only seemed to emphasise her own isolation. Through the glass screen she could see the locals gathered round the half-moon of the counter or grouped around the marble-topped tables with pints of beer in their hands, but there was nobody there she recognised, although she was now thinking of Charles Moreton as her pursuer.
    It was ridiculous, of course, a mad impulse arising out of the fact that he had sought her out at the party they had attended the evening before and been more or less determined to see her home afterwards. The point was that he had told her so little about himself, even though he had kissed her goodnight on the doorstep, a kiss which she still remembered. It had been brief and not at all demanding, as if he thought the gesture was expected of him in the circumstances as a matter of course, but it had left its mark. She would have thought that a man of Charles Moreton’s calibre wouldn’t kiss indiscriminately unless he had some good reason for the challenge.
    Remembering that he had added almost casually, ‘We’ll meet again, would you say?’ seemed to suggest that he wanted to renew their acquaintance some time in the future, but he had not made any definite rendezvous. He had asked a few pointed questions about her holiday, but that was all, and apart from his name he had told her nothing about himself.
    Somewhere at the back of her mind she felt that he might have some connection with Coralie, a discarded suitor, maybe, wishing to know her whereabouts, but that didn’t seem to fit the bill when her first