The Summer of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

lifted a hand to shade his face. ‘Victoria’s never read anything longer than Enid Blyton.’
    ‘But …’ Helen stopped.
    Seth’s voice interrupted the worry before it could take root.
    ‘She gets these schemes into her head sometimes. She’ll have big plans but never get past the first page. Ask her to explain the role of the main antagonist.’
    Helen was unsure herself what he meant. They sat without talking, a faint buzz wavering in the background. Mr Weaver at his endless lawn-mowing, probably. For a mad moment Helen thought about telling him her mistake, how she’d actually wondered if they were related to people as boring as the Weavers. It would only turn into a rambling mess, though. The silence was making her feel uneasy, clumsy, and she turned to Seth in relief when he spoke.
    ‘I take it she’s not here then?’
    ‘What?’ Helen scrambled to follow what he meant. ‘Oh, Victoria? No, I haven’t seen her today.’
    ‘In that case –’ Seth sprang up into a squat and balanced on the balls of his feet, arms stretched out for balance – ‘I’d better carry on with my search.’ He continued into a stand and paused before spinning round on one toe and heading towards the gate. She thought she heard him say something over his shoulder. She thought it was, ‘Come over later, if you like,’ but she couldn’t be sure. He was gone before she could ask him to say it again.

Chapter Five
    She got to the cottage with the uncomfortable feeling of arriving at a party at the wrong time. What had Seth meant by ‘later’? What if she walked in and they were in the middle of tea? She played for time by looking at the other cottages. The first in the row was more or less derelict. Tiles were missing from the roof, the windows were covered with boards, and the front door hung at an angle from one hinge. The next one in was the Mrs Tyler’s. Clean windows, here, hung with spotless lace curtains. The door was painted green and, though the paint was peeling at the bottom, the brass knocker shone. The third in the row was in better condition than the first but seemed to be empty, the curtainless panes shadowed inside their brick edging. Beyond the Dovers’ cottage she could see the beginning of the bridge, although the hedge carried on around the corner, keeping the side of the cottage enclosed. Helen edged closer. There were boxes piled up against the front wall, and what appeared to be an old-fashioned car horn hanging from the door handle, the black rubber bulb twisted around with string.
    She was about to go on when she saw something from the corner of her eye. One of the lace curtains in the second house had twitched, but it dropped back down again straight away. What if Mrs Tyler came out and started going on about noise again? The path carried on around the corner to what must be the back garden, where she could hear voices. Just as she was starting down it, Pippa came flying round, coming to a halt just in time, grabbing her hand and pulling her down behind the pile of boxes.
    ‘Sshhh, hide.’ Pippa buried her face in Helen’s shoulder, and Helen found herself closing her own eyes tightly in the long-forgotten ‘then you won’t see me’ response. She could smell Pippa’s hair, a mix of biscuit and something pungent and smoky. Not tobacco, more a hint of fragrance, something like the privet. One of her hands had ended up around Pippa’s back and, as footsteps approached, she tightened her grasp, mirroring Pippa’s hold on her own wrist. The footsteps came to a stop, and Helen could barely hold in the tension. Had hide and seek always been like this? She felt Pippa quiver as the sound of the feet retreated, and opened one eye. The sun seemed very bright, and she was aware of the rough wall against her back, the tingling of her folded knees. Beside her, Pippa shifted so her mouth was against Helen’s ear, but before the whisper took shape, a shadow leaped over them.
    ‘Boo!’ It was Seth,