Secrets on Saturday by Ann Purser Read Free Book Online Page A

the bus shelter near the pub.
    “Good,” she said. “Let’s walk, shall we? Lovers’ stroll through the woods?”
    Ben laughed. “So tell me about your first day as a skivvy,” he said.
    Floss scowled at him, and was silent for a minute. Then she said, “I really enjoyed it, most of it. Mrs. Stratford was very kind to me. Which was just as well, because old Mrs. T-J is a dragon! Not surprising she has all those gruesome stuffed things on her walls …”
    “Tell me more,” Ben said. They were out of the village now, heading towards the woods. It was twilight, and Floss said she shouldn’t be long, as she had once more lied to her parents. “But you’re a working girl now! You can do what you want. Stay out as late as you like … with whoever you like … except that it has to be me,” he added.
    “Yukky, Ben,” Floss said, and took her hand out of his. Ben was a couple of years older than her, and had been around. “Anyway, do you want to hear about the trophies? There was one,” she continued, without waiting for an answer, “that looked like a hairy pig, and Mrs. Stratford said it was a wild boar and probably came from France. She said the French shoot everything that moves.”
    “Glad I don’t live in France, then,” Ben said. They climbed the stile into the edge of the wood, and Floss stopped suddenly, a few steps along the track. “Listen!”she whispered. Ben looked at her enquiringly, and she put a finger to her lips. They stood motionless, listening. Voices, men’s voices from deep in the wood, trickled through to them. It was dark now, and they could see nothing. Then Ben grabbed her arm and pointed along the track. Far along it, a small light, as if from a torch being carried, moved up and down, getting closer.
    “Come on!” Floss said, and turning around, dragged Ben back to the stile. They were over it in seconds and running back down the road to the village. “What the hell was going on?” Floss said, when they were safely in sight of comfortingly lit houses.
    Ben shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. “Maybe alien visitors from another planet, or a secret coven of witches …”
    “Witches are female. Those were men’s voices,” said Floss. “An’ I’m not stupid, you know. Not a child any more. So you can forget the aliens. I didn’t like it, because men in a wood in the dark must be up to something. But they weren’t little green men with antennae coming out of their heads.”
    “Could’ve been Green Men, though,” said Ben smugly. “Haven’t you heard of them? Legendary ghostly characters who look a bit like trees and come at you in the dark. Then you’re never seen again.”
    “OK, you’ve done it now. I’m off home. You can ring me, but don’t be at all sure I shall speak to you.” And Floss was off, running down the street and disappearing into Hornton House.
    Ben laughed to himself. “She’ll be back,” he said, and turned into Blackberry Close. As he came to his house, his eye was caught by something moving in the garden of old Mr. Everitt’s house. Then a car started in the road outside, and drove off, much too fast. Funny, that, he thought. Still, perhaps the old boy is back. Ben opened his front door and forgot all about it.

N INE

    P OOR OLD BLOKE , THOUGHT L OIS . S HE WAS SHOP ping in Tresham, and passed the police station, looking up—as always—to Cowgill’s office window. But there was no stiff figure raising a hand in greeting. Compassionate leave, guessed Lois. There was so much to do in organizing a funeral. But he had a daughter living somewhere over Waltonby way, so wouldn’t be completely on his own. She knew there wasn’t much warmth in the marriage, but they had stuck together and even a rather chilly wife was a companion. Someone who was there all the time, made the meals, talked about this and that.
    “Hey, steady on!” It was Cowgill, and Lois had nearly sent him flying. “Good heavens, it’s you, Lois,” he continued.