The Blue Hour Read Online Free PDF Page B

voice is honey, so sweet I want to cry. I long to bury my face in her neck and breathe, but I can’t breathe properly or the tears will come and I don’t think I will be able to stop them.
    “We need to talk. Not here. Not like this. Please.”
    The crack in the tile looks old; I wonder how it got there. My mind is filling, clouding. Charles. Charles is real. It’s Eve who is the dream. This entire time, I haven’t looked at her.
    Charles.
    “I’m sorry. I can’t.” I turn, fumbling to draw back the lock with shivering hands and wrench at the door, relieved but also disappointed when I stumble out and she doesn’t try to stop me.
    A screen of panic slams down when my hands land on the rough fabric of Charles’s overcoat. Slowly, I look up. He’s holding my own, knuckles whitened around it. His spittle lands against my ear as he marches me towards the lobby.
    “I didn’t want to have to do this, Rosina, but God knows you’ve forced my hand. As if it wasn’t enough that everyone looks at us, wondering why you can’t get pregnant, and now this. I warned you, Rose. Lord forgive me; I’m about to teach you that lesson.”

CHAPTER FOUR

    The scarf bundled round my throat makes it difficult to keep my eyes on my shoes as they trudge the pavement. I didn’t go to church this morning. For the first time ever, Charles made no attempt to force me, although I’m walking mechanically to the village now, after lunch, on his insistence.My normal constitutional. Appearances are important in the King family.
    When I near the end of the High Street, a slight male figure springs forward and pulls me into an embrace, knocking the breath from me. I freeze for an instant, uncomprehending.
    It’s the scent that I recognise first. She’s wearing a grey newsboy cap, pinstriped jacket and... trousers . Heart turning, I angle myself towards the window of Tinley’s and only narrowly avoid meeting Mrs Tinley’s prying eyes on the other side of the glass.
    “Oh, Mrs King. Goodness, how perfect!” Her exclaimed greeting bears no shadow of the previous evening under pure, guileless delight. “I’ve just dropped Freddie and George at the station. Wait.” Her tone sharpens, and I instinctively duck my head. “You’ve been crying.”
    “No, I—”
    I try to turn my face further away, but her arm flashes out. She lifts aside the cloth covering my jaw, which was already blooming purplish when I wound the scarf around it before setting out. Cringing in shame, I let her, rather than risk any more of a spectacle in the street.
    “He did this to you?” Her tone is grim.
    Of course he did. Who else? Mrs Tinley’s eyes will be out on stalks; I can feel them boring into the side of my face. I blink rapidly and examine Eve’s mannish shoes.
    “The utter bastard,” she breathes. Then, more briskly, “Come on, Rosebud. The car’s over here.”
    “Charles... I can’t...”
    “Piffle.” Her hand is at the small of my back, gently insistent, and I go with her. As she leads me to the motorcar, my head cannot quite comprehend the recklessness of my legs. All I know is that I want to go with her. She called me Rosebud.
    Charles will kill me, I think as the buildings of the village begin to speed past before spreading out and finally giving way to a view of the sea.
    At the great white house, her shoes clack across black and white floor but this time, her hand holds mine. She takes me to the snug before surveying my face intently.
    “Do you need a doctor?”
    “No, it’s nothing like that.” I’m so embarrassed.
    Comprehension shimmers in the grey, and her voice softens. “Cognac.”
    She only pours one glass. After handing me the huge drink and bidding me to sit in the armchair I used before, she strides back out into the hallway.
    “Hello. Get me Mayfair, five-three-two-four, please.”
    I take a sip of the searing liquid and its fiery descent reminds me I’ve eaten nothing since yesterday. I scan the paintings absently,