Black Valley by Charlotte Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

changes in her life, what with the never-ending stream of clients passing through her consulting rooms. It was ridiculous, the schedule she was under; there wasn’t even time to sit by the
side of the road and shed a few tears after a funeral. The patients were beginning to feel like a burden; she was still receptive to their complex, volatile emotional demands, but the job was
taking its toll, because she herself no longer had a husband whose role it was to attend to her needs. There was no one to share her worries with when she came home, whether about work, or the
girls, or their finances, or where to go on holiday, or what colour to paint the bathroom. No one to laze around with on a Sunday morning, no one who told her she was beautiful, and wanted her, and
made love to her, and . . .
    She blew her nose and dried her eyes, chiding herself. Clearly, she was upset because Bob had lost interest in her, that was the truth of it. Seeing the giggling young lovers in the cemetery had
sparked it off. She was behaving like a silly teenager, and like a teenager, she suspected she wasn’t crying because she truly loved Bob, genuinely wanted him back; it was simply because
he’d found someone else, and didn’t want her any more.
    She glanced at the clock on the dashboard again, realizing that she’d have to get a move on if she was to get back to her office in time for her next patient. But just then, her phone gave
a cheery whistle. She glanced down at it. Text message. It was from Branwen, the receptionist, telling her that her next client had cancelled.
    She felt a momentary sense of relief, followed by a pang of concern about her client, Maria. She’d have to call later and find out if she was all right, perhaps rearrange the session. But
for the moment, she had the luxury of an extra fifty minutes to kill.
    She let in the clutch, and moved off into the traffic, heading towards the office. On the way, she decided to stop at Llandaff Cathedral. She wasn’t religious, but sometimes she found that
going into a church and simply sitting in a pew had a calming effect. It was something to do with the hush, the high ceilings, the stained windows, the air of otherworldliness that seemed both to
focus her on, and lift her out of, her preoccupations. Also – and this was a motive she only dimly acknowledged to herself as she drove on towards the cathedral – it just so happened
that Elinor’s house was nearby, on Llandaff Green, and she was curious to take a look at the scene of the crime.
    The traffic was heavy around the M4, but otherwise the drive through north Cardiff was reasonably clear. When she got to Llandaff, she parked the car next to the statue on the green. Before she
got out, she looked up at it for a moment. She’d always liked this gaitered cleric with his pale green patina, who gazed out at the cathedral, surveying his little kingdom. He gave the
village a peaceful, settled air, as if it was being overseen by some beneficent presence from more sedate, unhurried days gone by.
    She got out of the car, and walked up to the high street, stopping to look at the flower shop on the way. On an impulse, she bought herself a bunch of snowdrops, for no other reason than that,
after the sombre episode of the funeral, she felt she deserved a treat. Then she came back, slowing her pace, and took the road that ran alongside the cathedral.
    Jess had mixed feelings about Llandaff village. It wasn’t really separate from the city, but with its pretty shops and houses clustered on a hilltop around the twelfth-century cathedral,
it had a distinct air of being a cut above. It was an expensive place to live, relative to the other neighbourhoods, housing well-heeled professionals, as well as a few of the local clergy attached
to the cathedral. There was a private school nearby, which undertook the task of training choristers and future pillars of the establishment. All in all, one got the impression of a closed,