The Drowners Read Online Free PDF Page B

memories that preceded her sudden and unexpected move to Somerset. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the rich, heavy aroma, anticipating the dark, almost buttery taste of that first sip. She felt herself wobble and opened her eyes hurriedly. Damn, she was weak. Physically weak and – admit it – a coffee junkie too.
    With shaking hands she filled the kettle and rummaged through the cupboards for a beaker, spoon, sugar and her precious little French cafetiere. The smell when the hot water hit the ground coffee was intoxicating and it was hard to wait until the water turned dark, deep brown and the last of the beans nestled up at the top. Finally it was ready and she pushed down, so carefully and slowly in one smooth movement , watching as the scalding liquid cleared and the grounds were trapped below the metal filter. Two sugars first, then the coffee and only then a dash of milk … as important a ritual as any addict getting a fix, she thought, putting the used cafetiere in the sink and lifting the beaker carefully. Now, if she could just get back upstairs before Sue arrived home again.
    The journey up the staircase took twice as long as the trip down and she was exhausted by the time she sank into her bed. Greedily she sucked at the hot, bitter drink, relishing the rush of caffeine through her system but even this could not keep her awake long. She had time to regret the fact she’d forgotten to grab a book before she fell into a deep sleep.

    Out on the Levels a group of men converged on the village of Woolavington, arriving by car at intervals until all six of them were settled in a private room at the back of the Royal Arms pub. The landlord served them in person before retiring discreetly to make sure he was seen by his more regular customers in the bar. Times were hard, he reflected, and he needed the money, but he was not entirely happy about the arrangement. Pulling himself a half he tried to put it out of his mind and began a round of greeting and jokes in an attempt to lighten the sombre mood in the bar. The death ofMicky had cast gloom over customers and staff alike and rumours his drowning was being investigated by the police had done nothing to help business, as the more nervous drinkers (or those with nervous and vocal wives, he thought) were staying away. Add in the damn Carnival dragging people from one end of the county to another and he’d be lucky to make the wages bill this month. He nodded to his wife, on standby near the kitchen just in case there was a call for food from his guests. Responding with a scowl she retreated from view wiping her hands on her apron as she went. Another problem, he thought glumly. Somehow he had to tell her there was likely to be more ‘bookings’ for the top room and he’d already agreed to them.
    Upstairs an arrangement was being hammered out by representatives of five groups, all from different areas but with common interests.
    ’Tis no point us all fighting each other,’ said a man at the head of the long table. ‘We got a great opportunity here, not likely to be coming again soon. With Derek gone and young Newt banged up they is like headless chickens and all that business is open for the taking.’
    A tall, blond man in his early thirties rose and addressed the group. ‘I agree. Tom here knows the Levels far better than we do but we all know how useful this area can be. With the Johns gang out of the way we can open it up and use our contacts, make a safe base for operations. I’m in and I suggest you all join us. What about you Mark?’
    His companion, an older man with thin brown hair and piercing green eyes nodded slowly. ‘Reckon you may be right,’ he said. ‘We got to sort out a few things first though. I’m not so sure about this new stuff.’
    Several heads bobbed in agreement, mainly from the older men around the table. ‘Right,’ said a heavy-set man with a short, grey beard and a crooked nose. ‘There’s plenty of return from