Escaping Life by Michelle Muckley Read Free Book Online Page A

driveway since the last time they were
here so that he didn't have to leave his car outside on the road again when
they went out.  It was true, on a busy weekend, their little road overflowed
with cars parked randomly on the pavement.  Graham had even had a row with one
tourist and owner of a particularly shiny Range Rover.  The driver parked
directly in front of their gate, and when Graham had confronted him, he still
couldn't understand why leaving the car there was so inconvenient.  It was
difficult to see their entrance, and that had been the final incident before
they opened up the front garden, paying the council a small fortune to obtain a
small section of the adjoining land for a visible gate and driveway.  For
somebody who had loved his city life so much, Graham had remarkably taken to
life in Haven.  He was involved in the local council, a real find for them, to
have a sharp city lawyer as a member of their Board.  He had made good friends
with Charles Stewart and had enjoyed a couple of sea fishing trips, proudly returning
with his catch to Elizabeth, who filleted them whilst Graham had sat soaking in
the late afternoon sun with a beer in celebration of his antediluvian achievements.
    After too much
fish and with sticky fingers, they took a slow walk back up the hill to the
cottage.  They sat outside in the late summer sun, the orange glow softening the
view around them, their shirt buttons and tight city clothing loosened as they
settled into the slower pace of life.  The walls of the cottage came alive at this
time of day, bathed in the sweet colour of Merlin oranges, dimpled with
imperfections as it shone in through the distorted glass.  After a few glasses
of wine and the comfort of familiar company, Elizabeth couldn’t help but want
to discuss the arrival of the mysterious letter. 
    "Something
weird happened this week," said Elizabeth, encouraged in confidence by the
alcohol that made her eyes feel somehow like they moved asynchronously to her
head.  Graham immediately knew to what strange occurrence she was referring.
    "Sure you
want to talk about this, now?"  He stepped in quickly, half question, half
request.  He was worried about this subject; he thought they had forgotten it
for the weekend.  That had been his intention.
    "What?"
 Helen was already intrigued, and she leaned in closely to hear the tale, fascinated
by the strange and quaint goings on of village life.  Elizabeth couldn’t quite
focus on her.  She looked like she had three eyes.  "What happened?" 
    As she told the
story of the mysterious letter appearing suddenly before her almost a week ago,
she had lost any of the nervousness that she had felt before when she wanted to
raise the subject with Graham or her father.  David and Helen sat there for a
moment, contemplating the cards as Elizabeth laid them out on the table.  David
was the first to speak.  He looked firmly at Graham.
    "You're
kidding, right?" David didn't know if he should be taking this seriously. 
He turned to Elizabeth, smiling a little, like he was about to reveal a
secret.  "You don't believe it’s really from your sister, do you?"  As
he went through all of the reasons of implausibility, he explained how so many
people knew about what had happened.  With all the cynicism that can only be
built up after a lifetime of city experiences, he proposed a concept that
Elizabeth herself had tried so hard not to imagine could be true.
    “Don’t you
think there could be somebody out there who just wants to mess with you?”   He
had told her rather insensitively that after the funerals, many people he knew
in the city had been talking about the deaths, as if she was now something of
an unwilling celebrity.  
    “Everybody
knows about it Lizzy,” he continued.  She hated how he called her Lizzy.  All
of their friends were older than she was, and she found it patronising.  She
never said anything.  “You might not want to be, but you’re kind of