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.And the solution, once proffered, was so strikingly obvious that May could have kicked herself for being so blind.The person to talk to was, of course, Christopher.He had not joined the Windhorse till some time after Jim’s death and so could not possibly have been involved.But although May was relieved, this did not mean she was not concerned as to what his response might be.For instance he might suggest going to the police and May knew, if such were to be the case, that she would feel as guilty as if the decision had been her own.She hoped to find him by himself but it was Suhami who waved back, calling: ‘Did you want something, May?’ May gestured vaguely in an attempt to suggest that, even had that been the case, by now she’d quite forgotten what it was.The gesture was an awkward one for May was hopeless at pretending, being by nature as guileless as a kitten.‘It’s you I really wanted, Christopher.’‘So now you’ve got me.’‘Yes…um…well… We’re doing the honey at the weekend and the steriliser’s on the fritz.’ May closed her eyes as she spoke and gabbled the words.The lie still sat awkwardly in her mouth like an ill-fitting tooth.‘Working fine last time we used it.’ All three were now strolling back towards the house.‘Mind you—that was a bit ago.’As they entered, May was still wondering how to prise the young couple apart.Various unimaginative ploys occurred to her, but she knew she would present them with such transparent lack of conviction that they were more likely to make Suhami suspicious than get her out of the way.‘I’ll do it after tea.’‘Do what?’ May stared blankly at Christopher.‘What you asked me to do all of ten seconds ago, May.Have a look at the steriliser—after tea—OK?’‘Of course!’ cried May.‘Tea! Suhami—I shall need to take my ginseng and I’ve left them on my bedside table.Would you be a dear girl—save my legs…’As Suhami sped off, May seized her companion’s arm and pulled him further into the hall until they were standing directly beneath the lantern.Then she whispered: ‘Christopher—I have to talk to you.’Christopher looked huntedly around and whispered: ‘I zink zey know our plans.’‘Be serious.’Christopher laughed.‘Sorry.If you like I’ll look at the sterilizer now and we can talk in the kitchen.’‘There’s nothing wrong with the steriliser.I couldn’t think of anything else on the spur of the moment.I had to see you alone.I’ve been so worried.There’s something going on here…something wrong.And I’m sure it’s to do with Jim’s—’ She broke off and looked up at the gallery.It appeared to be empty.‘What was that?’‘I didn’t hear anything.’ He followed her gaze.‘A click.As if a door was closing.’‘Perhaps it was.What is all this May?’‘Better talk outside.’Christopher allowed himself to be dragged down a corridor towards the kitchen.‘This is all a bit MI5.You’re not recruiting by any chance?’ They had arrived at the back entrance to the house, a glassed-in door leading to the terrace.‘I’m not swallowing any microfilm, May,’ Christopher continued.‘Not even for you.’They stepped outside and Christopher turned to pull the door.May was standing a couple of paces ahead of him on old uneven flagstones seamed with yellow stonecrop.Moving to join her, he became aware of a heavy rumbling noise.Thunder? A skywards glance showed no sign of darkness.Then there was a bump and a big, black rounded object appeared teetering on the guttering.Christopher yelled and pushed.May shot forward, tripped over the hem of her robe and went hurtling into a flower border.Christopher jumped back into the opening.The object fell between them, smashing a flagstone.A web quickly ran out from the breaking point; chippings of stone flew.So rapid had been the descent, so violent the connection that for a few seconds the two of them remained motionless with shock.Christopher gradually became aware that someone was standing behind him calling his name.It was Suhami.‘Was that you shouting? What is it? What’s the—May…!’May, her scratched face further impressed by the woody stems of a lavender bush, was struggling to her feet.As Suhami hurried to help her, Christopher slipped back into the house.The stairs and gallery were still deserted.Everything was quiet.Swiftly he ran up to the gallery and around the three sides, knocking on doors, opening them and looking in when there was no response.All the rooms were empty.At the far end of the right-hand section, concealed behind a velvet curtain, was an archway, the stone soaring to an exaggerated point.Directly behind this arch were a dozen steps turning back on themselves in a savagely tight corkscrew and leading to the roof.There were signs of recent disturbance.The dust on the steps was scuffed and marked by flakes of old green paint from the skylight’s metal frame.Christopher remembered that Arno had been up there a couple of days before cleaning bird mess off the lantern.He crouched down on the top step which was very close to the glass, pushed the nearest half of the skylight open and fixed it into position with a rusting strut.Then he raised his head cautiously above the opening and looked around.The place appeared deserted.Climbing out, he at once felt disoriented—the twisty steps having left him unsure which way faced where.To get his bearings he turned a slow circle.There was the vegetable garden, so the section of the roof directly over the back door must be on the far side.As he hesitated, a cloud slid across the sun, leaching colour from the surrounding brick and slate.A breeze sprang up and Christopher shivered although he was not cold.Someone walking on my grave.He wondered how the phrase had first arisen, for the dead, snug in their wooden cocoons, were the last people to give a damn who walked, skipped or even danced a jig above their mouldering heads [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]