The Shadow Collector Read Online Free PDF Page B

over-reaction.
    But she carried on talking as though she hadn’t noticed. ‘Before I nipped over to the studio I went on the Internet and found
     a site about the history of Tradmouth. I printed some of it out.’ She took a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her
     jeans and offered it to Neil but he shook his head. ‘I’ll look at it later when I’ve cleaned myself up.’
    Harriet unfolded the paper and carried on talking. ‘It says here that Mercy Hall was owned by a Thomas Hadness who had Parliamentarian
     sympathies. That’s the Roundheads, isn’t it?’ She didn’t wait for a reply. ‘His wife Alison was accused of witchcraft and
     hanged in 1643 just before the besieging Royalists took control of the town.’
    ‘That’s the Cavaliers,’ said Neil, trying to be helpful. ‘What is it they used to say? Cavaliers were wrong but romantic and
     Roundheads were right but repulsive.’
    Harriet’s eyes glazed over as if he was going into too much historical detail for her liking.
    ‘This fits in with your carving of the hanged woman in the garden,’ he said. ‘AH. Alison Hadness. And the date’s right.’
    ‘So she was a witch?’
    ‘Not necessarily. From what I recall if you didn’t likesomeone back then you could accuse them of witchcraft and sit back and watch while they were tried … and maybe even hanged.’
    ‘So you don’t think she cast spells and cavorted with Satan?’ Harriet pouted in mock disappointment.
    ‘She probably just got on the wrong side of the woman next door.’
    She put the sheet of paper down on a packing case and took a step closer. ‘I’ve always wanted to be an archaeologist,’ she
     said. ‘It must be terribly exciting.’
    ‘There’s not much money in it but it has its moments.’ He kept the tone light. He felt a frisson of attraction, the sort of
     frisson he knew was unwise to act upon, in spite of the invitation in her eyes. ‘Anyway, you’re a sculptor, aren’t you? That
     must be much more exciting.’
    She tilted her head to one side. ‘It’s mostly tourist stuff. Hares are very popular at the moment. They’re an ancient symbol
     of femininity. Some believe they’re messengers of the Great Goddess, moving by moonlight between the human world and the realm
     of the gods.’
    ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said. ‘I’d better get cleaned up and go or I’ll be late for my meeting.’
    As soon as he’d said the words he heard a man’s voice calling Harriet’s name. He saw her flinch. Evan was home. Neil had met
     him on several occasions and thought he looked as if he’d be useful in a fight. The sort of man who’d always made him feel
     a little awkward.
    ‘I’ll be late tomorrow. I’ve got to visit the dig at Princes Bower first thing. I’m site director so it’s expected.’
    ‘I’ll be at my studio in the morning but I’ll be back later. See you tomorrow then,’ Harriet said, her mouth forming a silent
     kiss, before she hurried out to meet her husband.
    As Neil gathered up his equipment he had a sneaking feeling that he was about to step into a dangerous situation.
    ‘So someone nicked Lilith Benley’s book of spells. Very public spirited of them if you ask me.’
    Gerry put his feet up on his desk and began to flick through the file on his lap.
    ‘Probably means someone knows she’s back in circulation,’ Wesley said. ‘I thought her release was supposed to be kept quiet.’
     He’d made himself comfortable on the visitor’s chair and was nursing a mug of hot tea in his hands. Gerry had brought in his
     own kettle and tea bags because he considered that not having to suffer tea from the vending machine in the corridor outside
     to be one of the privileges of rank.
    ‘There was a lot of bad feeling about those Benley women so I’m surprised the good villagers of West Fretham haven’t been
     storming the place with pitchforks and burning torches.’
    Wesley grinned. ‘Isn’t West Fretham mostly holiday lets