The Honours Read Online Free PDF Page A

entrance. The Hall was symmetrical, its east and west wings reaching forward like the paws of the Sphinx.
    Philip switched off the engine and let the car coast the final few yards. Wheels crackled on gravel and stopped. Delphine got out. She waited, hands clasped over her tummy.
    Mother took Philip aside. She stood close and spoke quietly. Delphine realised she was being excluded and edged closer, indignant.
    â€˜We’ll send for you when we need you,’ Mother was saying. ‘Philip, I . . . the family appreciates your loyalty and discretion over these past few months.’
    â€˜Of course, Mrs Venner – ’
    She took his hand in both of hers. ‘I know we can trust you.’ When she let go, he glanced down.
    â€˜Oh, I . . . ’ He took a sharp breath. ‘ Thank you , Mrs Venner.’
    â€˜Take your aunt on a daytrip somewhere nice. Borrow the car, if you like.’
    â€˜Yes, Mrs Venner. Thank you, Mrs Venner.’ Philip seemed unable to lift his head. His cheeks were pink. ‘Uh . . . uh, so . . . ’
    â€˜What is it?’
    He kneaded his hands, his voice tailing off. ‘I was just . . . I mean, so I know . . . to be ready, like . . . for, uh . . . Will . . . when will you be wanting me to pick up, uh . . . Mr Venner?’
    Mother turned away.
    â€˜We will send for you when we need you.’
    â€˜Yes, Mrs Venner.’ He began backing towards the car.
    â€˜Philip? Our cases, please.’
    â€˜Oh, sorry, Mrs Venner.’
    As he unlocked the boot, Delphine wandered along the front of the house. Between the blocky east and west wings ran a long façade of smutted mustard-yellow brickwork. Up close, its palatial grandeur congealed into the grubby functionality of a sanatorium. A row of black-barred windows filled most of the – she fancied fatal – drop between the two storeys. Ivy clung to the brick in sickly clusters, too brittle to climb down.
    â€˜Delphine!’ Mother’s voice was sing-song but her eyes flashed with warning. ‘Let’s not keep our hosts waiting, dear.’
    A maid stood in the doorway, one elbow propped against the frame. She was young and slight with white-gold hair. Mother turned to wave off Philip. The maid eyed the two suitcases out on the gravel. She trudged over and grasped the handles.
    â€˜Where’s the rest?’
    Mother’s smile tightened. ‘We have all our luggage.’
    â€˜I see.’ The maid straightened up, baring her teeth. She was stronger than she looked. ‘This way, please.’
    Mother turned to Delphine and mouthed ‘Come on! ’ before following the maid through the double doors.
    Delphine hung back, scraping surly arcs in the gravel. When was Daddy going to come? Why hadn’t they waited till he was ready? It was horrible how Mother wouldn’t let her see him. Delphine spat into the white dust. Mother was a beast.
    Above the entrance, stout columns rose towards an architrave crusted in bird mess. As she craned her neck to follow them, she felt a surge of vertigo. She turned away.
    â€˜Delphine!’ Her name echoed from the corridor.
    Lawns spread ripe and unbounded. The distant treeline hung like an unresolved chord. She could run.
    â€˜Delphine!’
    Then she saw him.
    A figure was crossing the lawn – an old man with white side-whiskers and high, knotty shoulders. She couldn’t understand how she had missed him. His jacket was clay green against the sun-blanched green of the grass, the blood-dark green of the woods. In his right hand swung a shotgun; in his left, mole carcasses on a string.
    He stopped. The dead moles swayed and came to rest, nuzzling his filthy boots. He coughed into splayed fingers, examined them distastefully. The hand dropped away; he glanced about with a sudden wary vigour.
    Delphine held her breath. The man looked towards the Hall.
    She stepped backwards across