Motive for Murder by Anthea Fraser Read Free Book Online Page B

caught the warning look which flashed between the three of them. What had I said? I faltered, is something wrong?’
    â€˜No, no, of course not,’ Mike said quickly. ‘Anywhere along the coast is fine, provided you watch the flags. Can you – swim?’
    That question again. ‘Yes, quite well.’
    The waiter approached with the first course, and the wave of relief was tangible. Apparently swimming was something else it was unwise to talk about. A shiver of uncertainty, almost of fear, pricked its way up my spine. What was wrong with them? Why was I shut out? Even by Mike, who’d been so gentle with me.
    I don’t remember much more of the evening. Afraid of saying something else wrong, I sat miserably silent, forcing down the food without tasting it. Mike exerted himself to be attentive and amusing, but I found it hard to respond. Derek and Sandra danced, their faces pressed together, their arms twined round each other. I pleaded a headache which, with the heat and blaring of the band, was almost true.
    Then came the dark fog again, crouching outside the restaurant like a beast beyond the circle of the camp fire.
    I shrank into my coat, turned up the collar, and clenched my hands tightly in my lap. Mike, after a glance at my face, remained silent. Behind us, subdued whispers and giggles told plainly what Sandra and Derek were up to. Well, he wouldn’t ask me out again, that was for sure. A real Jonah I had turned out to be.
    But it wasn’t my fault! I protested silently. It was theirs, with their silences and their guarded eyes. And I couldn’t help it if Derek’s coarse jokes did not amuse me.
    At last, the car turned into the familiar gateway and drew up in front of the house.
    â€˜Don’t bother to get out,’ I said quickly, seizing the handle.
    â€˜Emily –’
    â€˜Good night!’ I half fell out of the car and ran quickly to the front door, where Mike caught me up.
    â€˜Emily –’ he said again.
    â€˜I’m all right – please go.’
    He put a finger under my chin and tilted back my head, trying to see my eyes in the light from the hall. His own were gentle, troubled, regretful. For a moment I almost wished that, disregarding my protest, he would hold me. I was in need of comfort at that moment. But he just said softly, ‘I’m sorry, angel.’
    â€˜Thanks for a lovely evening!’ I said in a rush, and wrenched open the front door. It closed firmly behind me, and I leant against it, blinking away tears.
    Then, to my horror, I heard a door open and Matthew’s voice called, ‘Is that you, Miss Barton?’
    Footsteps sounded from the library passage and he came round the corner into the hall. ‘I was worried about the fog –’ He stopped short on seeing me at bay, my back to the door. ‘What is it? Whatever’s wrong?’ He came towards me. I levered myself away from the door with both hands, shaking my head. He said sharply, ‘Did Mike – ?’
    â€˜No!’ I shook my head violently. ‘I’m all right, really, just a – a bad headache!’
    He stared at me, his eyes full of concern, and the last of my control snapped. ‘Goodnight!’ I choked, and, brushing past him, fled up the stairs to the sanctuary of my room.

CHAPTER FIVE
    I woke slowly to the realisation that it was Sunday, the sun was shining, and that, as Mrs Johnson was at her daughter’s, I would have to join the others for breakfast. I turned and buried my head in my pillow, away from the smarting sunshine. I didn’t want to see anyone. Unwilling memories of the previous evening washed over me: Derek and his loose wet lips; the tension when I mentioned going swimming; and Matthew in the hall below, helplessly witnessing my distress. And I had told him I could take care of myself! What must he think of me?
    Well, I thought rebelliously, sliding out of bed, they could keep their secrets,