The Tender Glory Read Online Free PDF

alive. Smoke rose from its chimneys straight into the still morning air and the front door stood hospitably open.
    Alison got out and put two bottles of milk on the white-stoned step, collecting the empty bottle which had been left there. The sound of music came to her from inside the house together with the appetising smell of cooking bacon.
    “There’s the milk at last,” a girl’s voice announced. “Neillie gets later and later with that van of his. It’s high time it was on the scrap heap!”
    “He does his best.”
    The answering voice was older, more restrained. Alison was turning back to the van when a small, dapper little man made his appearance in the open doorway, wearing a cotton apron. He looked so comical and so completely disconcerted at sight of her that she was half inclined to drive on without speaking. Then she thought she might owe him an apology.
    “I’m terribly sorry about the milk being late, but I’ve taken over from Neillie, and I mustn’t be so quick.”
    The little man untied the apron from about his waist and came down the steps towards her. His bearing was military and a small, thick moustache adorned his upper lip. He was smiling and friendly.
    “You must be Miss Christie,” he suggested. “Delighted to meet you!” He held out a chubby hand. “The name’s Searle— Major Searle. We’ve lived here, at the Lodge, for about a year. I suppose you went the long way round.”
    “I wasn’t quite sure about driving through the estate,” Alison confessed, “but I did come back that way. It’s much shorter.” While they were speaking she had become aware of being watched from inside the house, but the owner of the girlish voice kept her distance. The curtains at the nearest window fluttered once and were drawn quickly into place, but there was no further sign of the other occupant of the Lodge.
    “I’ll try to be earlier tomorrow morning,” Alison promised, waving Major Searle goodbye. “I’m new to all this, but I expect
    I’ll learn quickly enough.”
    While she started the engine she took one swift look at the house. The curtains had been parted again and a girl’s face was framed for a moment in the opening. It was small and pinched and dark, with thin black eyebrows drawn down above the most piercing eyes she had ever seen. She got the impression of straight black hair falling on the girl’s shoulders and thin hands grasping the curtains before they slid together again, and she drove off with a small shiver of revulsion. The face had been young and sullen and devoid of expression except in the eyes, and the voice she had heard had been high-pitched and querulous.
    Major Searle, she thought in a blinding flash of revelation. It wasn’t such a common name in these parts. Was he—could he be related to Leone Searle in some way? And, if so, what was he doing at the Lodge, and who was the girl in his care?
    She remembered that Huntley Daviot had been going to marry Leone Searle, but Huntley was no longer at Calders. The house had been closed for a long time and nobody seemed to know where he was. Suddenly she wondered if they could be expecting him at the Lodge, and then she laughed outright. Just because she had delivered an extra pint of milk there was no reason for her to suppose that the Searles were expecting a visitor.
    All the way home, however, she found herself thinking about Huntley Daviot, wondering what manner of man he was who had been in love with Leone Searle. Leone’s name had been legend in the musical world for years, her golden voice something that had to be heard to be believed, and Huntley Daviot must have worshipped her.
    Alison began to think of him with pity and understanding. Everybody had been shocked by the news of Leone’s untimely death in America. Even she had felt it, wondering when she would ever hear such a beautiful voice again.
    Strange that Leone should have come here to Calders! And stranger still, perhaps, that her family had remained