The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs Read Online Free PDF Page A

all: Keith with his hard-won cheerfulness; Caroline with that provocative, hawkish glee she exhibited as a child and which had never left her. Then there was Brian’s happiness; it always had a precarious aspect to it, as if being exhibited too ostentatiously might precipitate the appearance of dark forces that would serve to destroy it. In short, she reasoned worryingly, he was just like her.
    A burning smell twisted into her nostrils. — Drat, Joyce muttered, pulling the pan from the heated ring of the stove and scraping at the eggs with the wooden spoon to make sure that they didn’t cement to the bottom. Those pills Dr Craigmyre had given her, to help her cope with Keith’s condition; they were making her slow and befuddled.
    Where was Caroline?
    A thin woman in her late forties, with large, busy eyes and a prominent nose, Joyce Kibby skipped across the slate floor tiles. Poking her head from kitchen to hall, she shouted up the stairs, — Caroline! Come on!
    Upstairs in her room, Caroline Kibby elbowed herself up slowly, pushing her blonde hair from her face. A giant image of Robbie Williams greeted her, smiling from the adjacent wall. She’d always found that particular photograph of him sweet and somehow touching. Today, though, it seemed to do Robbie no favours at all, perhaps even making him look a little simple. Swinging her legs out from the bed she had a second to note the goose bumps on them before Joyce’s shrill voice echoed up the stairs again. — Caroliiinne!
    — Aye. Aye. Aye, she mouthed in hushed exasperation at the large poster.
    Caroline stood up and felt the chill on her for the few steps it took to pull her blue dressing gown from the hook on the door, and wrap it round herself. She instinctively held it tight at her chest as she emerged into the hall and immediately saw that her brother was getting ready – he had the bathroom door open to let the steam from the shower out. There was a dripping Star of David on the mirror. Brian was already dressed in the dark blue suit their dad had insisted that he bought for his new job. It fitted well, its cut making her brother seem more elegantly slim than the painfully thin way he was normally perceived. It added to him, she considered, Brian was definitely meant to wear a suit. — Very smart, Caroline smiled.
    Brian grinned at her, showing his big, white teeth. He had good teeth, her brother, she thought.
    It was a big day for him. This was an officer’s job at a bigger inspectorate than Fife, and was several salary grades higher. Additionally, there weren’t the same travel costs to consider. However, it was a big step up in responsibility and in some ways, across his tired eyes perhaps, it looked to Caroline likethe pressure was telling on him a little. But they were all suffering from a great deal of stress right now. — Nervous? she enquired.
    — Naw, Brian said, then conceded, — Well, maybe just a wee bit.
    — Caroline! Joyce’s voice, high and nasal, rose again from downstairs. — Your breakfast is getting cold!
    Caroline leaned over the rail above the staircase. — Aye! I can hear you! I’m coming, she ticked, Brian Kibby tensely noting the sinew straining in his sister’s neck.
    Joyce immediately stopped her rustling sounds as a tentative silence rose like hot steam from the kitchen. It was as if a bush sniper had just blown the head off a comrade in her proximity.
    Brian Kibby looked at his sister in dismay, but Caroline merely returned his pout and shrugged at him.
    — C’mon, Caz . . . he pleaded.
    — She gets on my nerves sometimes.
    — I think it’s because of Dad, Brian said, adding, — It’s a big strain.
    Now she was finding something patronising and exclusive in her brother’s tone and it rankled. — It is for all of us, she briskly retorted.
    Brian was slightly taken aback at the edge in Caroline’s voice. She had shown few overt signs of their father’s illness affecting her. But of course it must, after