Last Act of All by Aline Templeton Read Free Book Online Page B

going faster and faster down a ski-slope. The suspicion that the only stopping-place was in a crumpled heap right at the bottom didn’t help you resist the temptation to push off at the top. Well — Geronimo!
    His good mood restored, he drove on, humming under his breath.
    They collected Stephanie from a friend’s house on the way home to their Docklands flat. For her sake, they talked normally, but the atmosphere was heavy with unasked questions.
    They were clearing supper, with Stephanie tucked up in her pretty, chintzy bedroom, when Neville said, without preamble, ‘It said something to me, you know, that road, the signpost.’
    She shifted uncomfortably. She too had felt something of the stark attraction he talked about, but feeling it unhealthy, would not indulge the thought.
    ‘ Where does the opposite road go to?’ she asked, as if idly.
    In an instant, the clouds descended. He clenched his fists in a pantomime of furious frustration. ‘God, Helena, do you always have to do that? I’m only talking about an important moment of decision — important for all of us — standing literally at a crossroads, and you come out with some crass vapidity about the other road.’
    He glared at her, his face darkly suffused. Once she would have bowed under the onslaught, but experience had taught her that allowing him to lash himself into a rage led to the sort of violence she had no wish to endure again.
    She withdrew her gaze from him, as if he had suddenly ceased to interest her, becoming apparently engrossed in tidying the kitchen.
    It usually worked, this weapon of indifference, to the point where she sometimes felt guilty about making use of it. Neville’s desperate need was for an audience to act as mirror for himself; without one, he vanished.
    Tonight he came over to put his arm about her shoulders.
    ‘ Nella, darling Nella, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m a horrible person, and I don’t know why I shout at you when you’re the best wife I could have. Far too good for me.’
    ‘ Neville, you’re so stagey,’ she said in exasperation. ‘It’s all an act. You’re even acting now! We might as well be playing Hay Fever — “say sorry to your wife in the manner of the word ‘engagingly’.” ’
    He grinned. ‘But I am engaging, aren’t I? Usually?’
    She sighed helplessly. ‘That’s the trouble. Most of the time, yes. Except when you’re Harry, and then you’re not engaging at all. You’re plain nasty.’
    ‘ Bad Harry. We’ll put him in the dustbin for the evening, shall we? There. Squash the lid down. Now I’m nice Neville, and you’re lovely Nella, and you’re pleased with me because I’m good now.’
    He drew her into his arms, and she didn’t resist. But as he bent his head to nuzzle her neck, she said seriously, ‘I’m worried about Radnesfield, Neville. I think it’s going to be Harry who lives there.’
    He raised his head, but did not turn to meet her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Nella. I can’t explain, but somehow, I have to buy that house. It’s — it’s destiny, if you like. Kismet.’
    ‘ There you go, over-dramatizing again,’ she protested, but something about the way he said it sent chills down her spine. Harry was back again, like someone standing just at the edge of her vision, and in an uncharacteristically fanciful moment, she felt that they were the actors on his stage, being manipulated into position for a drama of which only he knew the denouement.

 
    Chapter Three
     
    He had done it again. She could kill him, preferably slowly. For the umpteenth time since they came to live in this godforsaken black hole, he had landed guests on her at an hour’s notice. A drinks party — well, thank you. Thank you very much.
    She could cope, of course. She had a freezer stacked by a local gourmet cook and a microwave; having sweated blood the first time he dumped her in it, that wasn’t going to happen again. But this was the symptom, not the disease.
    The little flame