Palmer-Jones 04 - A Prey to Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

and Judy for them to watch. There were ice cream vans and hot-dog stands and bands and balloons and a parade of vintage cars. The colour and noise suited Helen’s mood exactly. She was reading Le Grand Meaulnes for A level French and the carnival music, the children in fancy dress, the friendliness of the participants reminded her of the party at Augustin’s secret domain.
    The event was opened at two o’clock by an actress more famous for her involvement with the Green movement and for her refusal to wear fur coats and leather shoes than for any of the roles she had played. No one knew how Eleanor had persuaded her to come but her presence at the event had generated a lot of publicity and the makeshift car park in the field across the lane was full. The large gardens were heaving with people. Helen listened to the opening speech and waited for Laurie’s arrival in a state of breathless unreality. The scene around her was fiction, art, only a backdrop for their meeting. Soon she would see him and the whole purpose of the day would be realized.
    The singers and dancers were performing in a corner of the garden furthest away from the house and Helen made herself wait until the speeches were over and the applause had faded before going to find Laurie. There was no stage. The musicians played on a square grass court and the audience sat on shallow grassy terraces which formed three sides of it. That part of the garden was sheltered and very hot, and not so crowded as the rest of Gorse Hill. At first she could not see Laurie. She looked through the people lazing in the sun and she was quite sure he was not there. A folk group were singing sea shanties and two children, showing off, were dancing barefoot, between the musicians and the audience. They were golden-haired, dressed in white frocks with blue sashes and they stopped every now and then to collapse in a fit of giggles. Helen turned to find somewhere to sit and then she saw him. He was coming back from the beer tent, walking across the grass towards her. He was carrying a drink. It was cider, he said. For her. He had to go now. It was his turn to perform.
    The sea shanties were over. The musicians bowed and the little girls ran away still giggling. Laurie sauntered down the grass slope and took his place. She watched him over the rim of her glass and he smiled at her. He bent over his guitar. As he played the introduction to his song she could only see the top of his head with its stiff wiry curls, and his fingers. The nails were bitten so low that the brown stubs of his fingers looked unusually soft and round. Later she would not remember the tunes he had played, though she listened with rapt attention. His voice was light and melodic. She could tell that the rest of the audience enjoyed his songs and she felt proud of him and wanted to tell them that he belonged to her.
    When he finished singing he came back to her with more drink – beer for himself and cider again for her. She had hardly tasted the first glass. He sat beside her on the grass. She turned towards him and kissed him. When it was over and she opened her eyes she saw Eleanor standing on one of the terraces opposite, staring at her with steely disapproval. Helen blushed but with an attempt at defiance pretended not to notice. She kissed Laurie again and when she next looked Eleanor had disappeared.
    She had thought they would spend the afternoon there, in the sunshine, as they had on the hillside the day before. She wanted to show him round Gorse Hill, to take him to all the favourite places. She thought they might even walk on to the hill again and sit under the boulder so that they could be alone. But after ten minutes Laurie said he had to go. There was someone he had to meet.
    ‘Who is it?’ she asked. She was confused by the sunshine and the cider. She thought he would come back to be with her for the afternoon.
    ‘Oh,’ he said with contrived irony. ‘No one important. Only my father.’
    She