The Cat Next Door Read Online Free PDF Page B

The twins aren’t down yet.’
    â€˜Oh …’ Margot winced before realising that Christa was referring to her own twins, Justin and Fenella.
    â€˜Yes, I see. Good idea.’ Margot moved along the line of chafing dishes, lifting silver domes to reveal kedgeree, scrambled eggs, devilled kidneys, sausages, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, hash-brown potatoes and slices of cold ham and chicken. Coffee bubbled in the glass coffee pot and a toaster waited to receive slices from the brown and white loaves beside it.

    Margot filled her plate, decided she was probably not up to slicing the uncut loaves, especially as the bread knife looked rather dull, and took a poppyseed roll instead. She carried it to the table, went back for coffee, then sat down and wondered whether she could eat anything at all. Suddenly, her appetite had deserted her.
    Fortunately, Christa was too absorbed to notice. Her charcoal stick raced over the sketchpad, a dab with the red and then the silver pastel chalk highlighted a fold, emphasised a seam, suggested a curve. What had been a vague outline was beginning to take shape, turning into a costume to die for. Obviously, Christa had a contract for a new theatrical production.
    â€˜Any more coffee?’ It was more of an order than a request. Christa was lost in her own world, not noticing that there wasn’t a gofer or assistant within miles.
    Oh, well, why not? Margot took Christa’s empty cup and refilled it. No milk or sugar, she noticed, Christa operated on straight caffeine.
    She was just setting the cup down at Christa’s elbow when the handbell pealed out an urgent summons from upstairs, causing her to jump and slosh coffee into the saucer.
    Christa swore as the sudden noise tore at her reflexes, constricting her fingers and sending a streak of red chalk off the end of the page in an erratic line.
    â€˜They’re ruining that child!’ Christa snapped. ‘Sympathy is all very well, but they’re going too far!’ Her hand was still shaking, setting her charm bracelet rattling, as she lifted the dripping cup unsteadily to her lips.
    There was the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs to answer the summons. Not fast enough, obviously, for the bell rang impatiently again.
    Christa was right. Sympathy for a bereaved, traumatised child was one thing, but ‘spoiled brat’ was the
phrase that came to mind. Then one thought again of why she was being so spoiled.
    â€˜She has been through a terrible experience,’ Margot said.
    â€˜So have we all.’ Christa was unforgiving. ‘It’s still going on and she isn’t making it any easier for us.’
    â€˜I suppose not.’ Margot slumped into her chair and picked at the kedgeree. Unexpectedly, her appetite returned. She had forgotten how good kedgeree could be, made with the proper spices, unlike the bland commercial varieties she had encountered where the hard-boiled egg was often the tastiest component.
    â€˜Delicious,’ Margot said. ‘I see Nan is still working her magic in the kitchen. She was wasted in the nursery all those years.’
    â€˜Hmmm?’ Christa looked up from her work absently and seemed to have difficulty in recognising her niece.
    â€˜Nothing.’ What it was to be so absorbed in one’s work. Margot felt a small pang of envy. It wasn’t so long ago that she, too, had been able to slip into that cocoon and be oblivious to the world. ‘Just a pleasantry.’
    â€˜Oh …’ Christa shrugged and went back to her sketch.
    â€˜Pleasantries, I remember those,’ a voice said behind Margot. ‘At least, I think I do. It’s been so long since I heard one. There hasn’t been much heart for them lately.’
    â€˜Kingsley!’ It wasn’t fair! Someone should have warned her. She hadn’t expected to see him here. Not so soon, so unexpectedly.
    And yet, when she thought about it, where else should he