Requiem Mass Read Online Free PDF

driving gloves. Her eyes travelled down until they reached his legs, sleek and athletic in dark navy trousers. Deborah realised with a start that she was staring and that her idle interest in him could be taken as serious unless she was careful. Naturally romantic and deeply frustrated, she recognised the danger signs in her behaviour. She waited impatiently for him to speak again.
    After a few minutes of silence she ventured a comment of her own.
    ‘You mentioned a sister, do you keep in touch with her?’
    ‘Not as much as I’d like. She works abroad, in Brussels, so I see her only rarely. How about you – do you have brothers or sisters?’
    ‘I’m an only child. My father died a few years ago. My mother lives close by so I see her quite regularly – duty visits really as we don’t get on particularly well. My family life really revolves around my own family. I have two children, a girl and a boy.’
    Deborah could hear herself wittering on and stopped abruptly. She was not sure why she had revealed so much of herself to a perfect stranger and she felt exposed. He was the sort of person, though, who seemed to invite confidences,someone who appeared genuinely interested in her, despite the need to steer them through a mêlée of aggressive black cabs and suicidal courier bikes. Inevitably, she thought of Derek, who rarely displayed any interest in her conversation at the best of times and certainly not when he was driving.
    He was aware of her growing interest in him and delighted in the additional power it gave him. She was perceptibly more relaxed and had inclined her legs towards him in an unconscious gesture of acceptance. More importantly, she was paying scant attention to the streets through which they were passing.
    ‘I have to stop for a moment and pick up some clothing samples to take to the office. I hope you don’t mind but I didn’t want to risk collecting them earlier and making myself late for you. It’s on our way and’ll only take a moment.’
    ‘That’s fine. You seem to be making good time despite the traffic and we don’t need to be there until ten o’clock, do we?’ Deborah returned his grateful smile and settled back more comfortably in the leather seat.
    He pulled slowly into a side road off Kensington High Street and then turned carefully into a small mews that ran down from it at right angles. He had picked the spot a few weeks earlier and visited it a couple of times since to confirm the choice. Most of the residents would, by this time, have left for work and it was too early for the few that remained to be setting out for the shops. He drew up in front of a double garage on the shady side of the street where two ornamental bay trees in tubs provided screening on the passenger side of the car.
    He opened the driver’s door, which automatically released the other locks and the boot. Leaving his own door open, he walked around to the boot and unzipped the small black holdall he had left there, taking from it a prepared hypodermic. In the shadow of the boot lid, screened from both the street and the occupant of the car, he carefully checked the measured dose in the syringe, then concealed it along the length of his open left hand.
    Speaking just loudly enough for his voice to reach her inside the car, he called out: ‘Mrs Fearnside, I’m sorry to trouble youfurther but could you just give me a hand with this, please?’
    Deborah roused herself from an idle daydream and undid her seat belt. She moved to open her door but realised with a smile that he was there already, the perfect chauffeur, ready with a hand to assist her from the car. He was standing with his back to the rear passenger door, his right hand outstretched ready to help her from the car. Still in her seat, she lifted her own left hand to him, experiencing a small thrill as their flesh touched. He gently turned her hand, as if to kiss it. She looked up expectantly into his eyes and was startled by the intensity of his