The Garden of Stars Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’s not originally from Ivory Meadows?’ I asked, surprised. I had assumed to become mayor of a town like Ivory Meadows you’d have to have lived here all your life.
    Â â€˜Oh no,’ several people grunted in unison.
    Â â€˜He’s just as much of a newcomer as you,’ quipped Mrs Donaldson.
    Â Barbara continued, ‘It was strange. He just seemed to appear from nowhere. He was a wonderful showman, like some kind of circus ringmaster; people just liked spending time with him.
    Â â€˜He did some great things for this community. Sorted out a lot of our niggles, he did. It was only a few months ago that we realised the reason for his good deeds was not so much for our joint benefit as his own. Within a few days we discovered the man with whom we’d been happy to discuss our hopes and fears for the town knew far too much. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows about our meeting by sunset tonight.’
    Â â€˜Then,’ I said, ‘we must become an underground movement.’
    Â A detailed plan fell from my lips although I had no idea where it came from. Everyone listened hard. They thought it would work, and they wanted to give it a try. More than that, they promised to give it their all.

Chapter Three
    When Rosie and I returned home from feeding the ducks on the river later that day, an elderly woman was waiting at the end of the path.
    Â â€˜I’ve been watching you,’ she said.
    Â â€˜Really?’ I asked, a little unnerved by her forthright manner. The last thing I needed was a spy. Looking more closely I recognised her as the kind but stern woman who had led us to Cherrystone Cottage on our very first day here. Then she had been covered up in a wax jacket, wellingtons, and a rain hat. Today, hatless, her platinum blonde hair was neatly pinned in place and heavy make-up was etched into the deep lines and furrows of her face.
    Â â€˜Mind if I come in?’ she said, more of an announcement than a question as she promptly pushed past me and sat herself down on the chair in the kitchen.
    Â â€˜I can see you haven’t changed the house much. I like that. Change is a bad thing. Can only bring problems. Unless, of course, the change is a new person, you know.’ With this she winked at me.
    Â â€˜So how’s your campaign going?’ she asked.
    Â I looked at her, shocked and doubly unnerved; she had not only plonked herself in my kitchen but also seemed to know far too much about me.
    Â â€˜News travels on the wind, my dear,’ she said, as if she’d read my thoughts. ‘It echoes around Metford Manor until the noise gets so loud I have to get out and do something about it.’
    Â Metford Manor. The name rang a bell. I had seen a picture of it, looking like a gothic castle with four turrets and a long drive leading up to it. Age seemed to have turned it black. Barbara told me it was haunted. I hadn’t realised anyone actually lived there.
    Â â€˜Yes, Metford Manor is my home.’ She sighed. ‘Born and raised there so there’s not much point in leaving.
    Â â€˜Miss Mary Metford,’ she said, proudly extending her hand. ‘It was my grandfather’s grandfather’s home – and a fine place to grow up in,’ she added. A whimsical look came over her face. ‘I’ve kept things the same in my father’s memory, God rest his soul.’
    Â I wondered how long it had been since she lost her father. She looked close to a hundred herself.
    Â â€˜Eighty-six, that’s my age. Don’t feel a day past seventy-six, though, to be honest.’
    Â A heavy circle of pillar-box red lipstick overlapped her withered lips, giving her a capricious look of a sad clown. ‘Don’t need you to feel sorry for me,’ she snapped. ‘I’m quite capable of looking after myself on my own up there, thank you very much.’
    Â â€˜I can fully believe that, Miss