The Hidden Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

Janet. Sorry, I’ve had no luck getting hold of Brian about those keys. We’re expecting him back from Italy today, though, if the airport isn’t closed, so I’ll ring you as soon as we hear. Apologies again. All the best.’
    Hannah examined her schedule, forcing herself to think practically.
    Day 12: Monday, SITTING ROOM, she’d rewritten optimistically last night. If they still couldn’t unlock the door, she’d just have to paint another guest bedroom today.
    She went to score out SITTING ROOM. Before she could write a word, however, there was a loud clanking noise.
    The boiler had definitely died this time. You didn’t have to be a plumber to tell that. The dials had settled at zero, and the pilot light was out. Hannah jabbed uselessly at the button as before and then, when that didn’t work, at all the others.
    The intense cold crept inside Will’s towelling robe.
    Hannah grabbed her marker pen.
    EMERGENCY PLUMBER, she wrote at the top of her schedule. PRIORITY .
    She’d just have to get on with it. It was that or a panic attack.
    With no phone book evident in the house, she sat in the two-bar-signal area of the kitchen and typed in ‘Emergency plumber, Thurrup’ to her phone’s search engine. The Internet symbol ticked round interminably, then froze. Then the phone signal disappeared altogether, forcing her to move again. This would take all day. For a second she had the brilliant idea of asking Laurie and Ian for a plumber in Thurrup.
    Then she remembered.
    Laurie’s number was on Will’s mobile, not hers.
    ‘Bloody hell!’ Hannah shouted. She texted Will asking for Laurie’s number, wondering how long it would be before he saw the message. She watched the snow drift across the garden, starting to realize how cut off she was out here. She hadn’t even considered this type of scenario when they visited in late summer. At home in Shepherd’s Bush the snow would have little effect on anything. She’d just pop round to a phone box or the Internet cafe. Here, she was a quarter of a mile from Tornley; five miles from Snadesdon and nine from Thurrup. And even then she wouldn’t risk cycling in this weather.
    Hannah gulped her tea and made herself imagine this was a press trip abroad. If a bunch of journalists was relying on her to fix the situation, what would she do?
    ‘Right,’ she said, standing up. Enough moaning. First thing she needed was a stronger phone signal – or, even better, a neighbour with a phone book and a landline.
    Hannah jogged upstairs and threw on some warm clothes, followed by Will’s big jumper and his grey beanie. Her winter boots were packed in a box somewhere, so she pulled on the ‘green wellies’ she’d bought for Will as a joke, when he’d been invited to a pheasant shoot by a rich client who owned a Scottish castle. They were covered in neon-lime frogs. At size eleven, they looked ridiculous on her size-five feet, but would do for now. Nobody would care what she looked like here, anyway.
    Insulated against the cold and snow, Hannah stomped out of the house into a garden that had transformed since yesterday.
    It was so cold it hurt her lungs to breathe.
    The falling snow had stopped, at least. The lawn was bathed in hush, as if the animals and insects had burrowed away to sleep it off. The ice-topped weeds looked strangely pretty too, like a field of giant snowdrops. Holding her phone in front to check for a signal, Hannah headed down the driveway, her footsteps echoing on the snowy gravel like gunshots.
    When the signal did not improve, she turned right out of the driveway towards the high electronic gate next door. There was an intercom, with no name. She pressed it and scanned the eerily quiet lane behind, and the white marshes that led to the sea. They were so far from the nearest B-road you couldn’t even hear traffic.
    There was no reply.
    Trying not to feel defeated, she turned back up the lane towards Tornley, checking her phone intermittently. When two bars