Blind Date by Frances Fyfield Read Free Book Online Page A

day, sick and shivery after he had capsized, took to his bed and never got up.
    Perhapshe was like me, Elisabeth thought now. A person who wilfully persisted at something he could not do and was then irreconciliable in defeat. All the same, it seemed an odd motive for dying.
    Bronchial pneumonia in a small, thin man who had always resembled the runt of the litter, was a better excuse.
    Something had reminded her of all this ancient history. Perhaps it was the voices downstairs, caught in the breeze from the far end of the garden where Steven and her mother sat on the bench, talking. She remembered Mother sitting there, first with the doctor and then, later, with Mrs. Smythe, all those years since. Or was that all in her imagination? And then there was that other memory of low-voiced, bitter rows, coming from another room making her feel as she did now, full of the longing to leave.
    Her father had had so few passions in his life. Look at how they shine, he would say in wonder, never referring to the stars. Look at the fire, child; have you ever seen anything like that? He kept his heart locked inside a sapphire, adored all precious stones, but only revered the hardest: rubies, sapphires and diamonds. She was falling asleep, thinking how it was that lovely Emma had delighted in jewellery, whereas she had loved only the stones. She did not want to own them, or wonder what her father had done with them, but she loved and revered them, all the same. Those two outside, sitting with their coffee, talking about her, never looked at the stars either. Their feet were firmly planted on the ground.
    â€œS he’s justlike her father,” Diana was saying to her son-in-law. “Mean, secretive and jealous. Also prone to excess. I’m sure she could have told us more about how the trial failed. She could have found out more than we were told. But she wouldn’t.” She paused. Irritation was exhausting. Positive comments were better for the soul. “At least this ghastly accident has stopped her drinking,” she added.
    â€œWithout getting hooked on anything else, hmm? Look, Mother, you’re hardly being fair. Secretive, yes. Difficult, yes, yes, yes. But mean? Never. Not Lizzie. We had our explanation, didn’t we? It’s not enough, but it’s something.”
    Diana shifted on the bench, rearranging her jacket, noting the frayed cuff. Her white hair was almost luminous. Emma’s hair would have been like that if she had ever lived so long.
    â€œShe was jealous of Emma. Terribly.”
    â€œI don’t remember that stage. I remember the times when she was over-protective. She adored her.”
    â€œOh yes, all right, she did. Not when Emma was a baby, though. She tried to throw her into the sea.”
    â€œDid she?”
    â€œTwice. Once in the pram, once without.”
    Diana had begun to load the coffee cups on the tray, quietly preparing to move. It was becoming cold. A light from the dining-room window, where the curtains were half-drawn, illuminated the lavender in the flowerbed.
    â€œI must go in,” she said. “Caroline Smythe’s leaving tomorrow, and I’ve mostly managed to avoid her, but she could come bounding out here anytime now, looking for company. She’d love to see you. Mull over old tragedies, oh God, she does love tragedy. She’ll tell you about her son, I suppose. That terrible boy. You two were friends,” she added accusingly.
    He frowned, as if disliking the memory.
    â€œYes. For two weeks a year I became a bad boy, like him. Full of city habits. Stealing sweets and apples. Letting down tyres. Throwing stones at the cliff in the hope of a landslide. Wicked stuff. What was his name?”
    â€œSurely you remember? Such a handsome pair you were,” she said, rising. The dog at her feet growled. Diana shushed it and put a finger to her own lips. She whispered, “Caroline Smythe offered to keep Elisabeth company … can you