Being Light 2011 by Helen Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

Perhaps Roy has run away and left Sheila. She’ll come to terms with it in her own way in the end.
    ‘I was wondering whether you could shed any light on his disappearance, Mrs Latimer?’
    ‘I’m sorry?’ Mrs Latimer is jarred out of her reverie on the pain of abandonment.
    ‘Is there any reason, any business reason, why someone should keep Roy from coming home?’
    Mrs Latimer stares, astonished. ‘I’m sorry?’
    ‘You have a very successful business empire, Mrs Latimer. Roy was a part of it. A small part of it. I know he worked here for less than a year but even so, I wondered if there was anyone who could have kidnapped him?’
    ‘I’m sorry? I thought he, um, blew away.’
    ‘He may have fallen into the hands of your enemies. I wondered if they would try to obtain your secrets from him. The training techniques for the performing dogs, for example.’
    ‘But my dear, why would they have waited until he, er , blew away, to obtain this information from him? It doesn’t make sense.’ Mrs Latimer watches as Sheila’s face collapses in pain. ‘I’m sorry, I wish I could help you.’
    ‘It’s OK, I’m not working alone. I’ve hired a private detective to help me. She was very helpful and very supportive. “Only believe.” ’
    ‘What?’
    ‘That’s what Mrs Fitzgerald said to me: “You’ll find him. Only believe.”
    ‘Only believe? Well, then, there is something I can do. I’ll pay the detective’s fees. As Roy worked for me, it’s the least I can do. You can handle all the contact, I don’t need to be involved at all. Just send me the invoices for the next three months and a copy of the reports she makes and I’ll pay all reasonable expenses. If we haven’t found Roy in three months then perhaps we should talk again. But we will, Sheila. Love will find a way. He’ll be back with you in no time and we’ll all be laughing about it at the Christmas party. Just some silly misunderstanding.’
    Sheila’s visit has put Mrs Latimer in a thoughtful mood. A little while after Sheila has gone she takes her credit card from her purse and telephones The Times newspaper. She asks the sales assistant at the other end of the telephone to place an advertisement on her behalf in the personal column two days later, on the anniversary of the death of the great Poodles Hanneford:
    “It doesn’t matter about the money. Please come back. V.”
    ‘Is that it?’ asks the assistant.
    ‘It’s enough,’ says Venetia .
    She walks into her study and opens a drawer in her desk. She takes out a faded report into the care of performing animals entitled ‘Unkindness Kills.’ The report deals with animals trained for film, television and circuses and those kept in zoos. It argues that teaching animals to perform is unethical. The author cites proven instances of cruelty by trainers and keepers. It lists the names of horses killed in steeple chases. Mrs Latimer flips it over and re-reads the familiar summary:   ‘ If every person who reads this report refuses to approve of performing animals, withdraws their support, refuses to participate even as a spectator, this will wither the industry. There is no need to campaign or protest. Just walk away. The industry cannot survive without an audience. Only believe.’ And then the initials at the bottom, ‘E.F.’.  

    Harvey is wiggling his hips to the tunes from Jane’s Live at Pride CD as he inspects her fridge for something that isn’t low fat to pick at over coffee.
    ‘Harvey,’ Jane growls as his hand falls on a stale donut, ‘stop mincing around and coin a clever phrase for me that I can slip into this style piece I’m doing for The Sunday Times .’
    ‘What’s it about?’
    ‘It’s about how you can fit a beauty routine into your busy day as a housewife and mother. You just make face masks out of the kids’ food.’
    Messy Mums?’
    ‘Nah, too negative.’
    ‘Stale donut?’
    ‘Hmm, doesn’t really make sense. Stale Donut. Messy Mum. Donut