The String Diaries by Stephen Lloyd Jones Read Free Book Online

upturned hand she saw a mark, or tattoo, on his wrist: faded, blue and indistinct, but plainly the silhouette of a bird of prey.
    Moses sat by the fire, tail sweeping the flagstones, eyes fixed on the windows. Abruptly Sebastien sat back and pulled off his gloves. He passed a hand across the top of his skull. Massaged his scalp. ‘It’s done.’
    Hannah studied the neatly sewn wounds on her husband’s torso, his shockingly pale skin, the dark, sunken patches around his eyes. His blue lips. ‘Nate?’
    Her husband stared at the ceiling, eyes unfocused and dull. Corpselike. After a moment, he moved his head and looked at her. When he opened his mouth to speak she shushed him, telling him that it was OK, that he was going to be OK.
    Hannah turned to the old man. ‘What now?’
    Using an arm of the sofa for support, Sebastien pushed himself to his feet. He flexed his shoulders. ‘Now he rests. I’d prefer it if we could get him into bed, but it’s best that he lies here for now. We don’t want to risk those opening again.’
    ‘Can we let him sleep?’
    ‘Let’s get some more liquids into him first.’
    Hannah got to her feet and mixed another glass of sugar water. She held it to Nate’s lips. He gulped it down. Closed his eyes. Within seconds he was asleep. Hannah found Sebastien’s gaze upon her.
    ‘I think,’ he said, ‘it’s time for some answers.’
    ‘Will he live?’
    ‘That’s a question.’
    ‘It’s the only question right now.’
    He frowned. ‘You agreed to be straight with me.’
    ‘He’s my husband.’ Hannah gestured to the armchair where Leah slept. ‘You’re looking at our daughter. They’re the two most important people in the world to me. They’re all I have. And I need to know if he’s going to live.’
    ‘If your husband survives the night, he’s got a good chance.’
    ‘And his chances of surviving the night?’
    ‘Do you believe in God?’
    The question ambushed her, choked her. She couldn’t speak.
    Seeing her distress, Sebastien’s face softened. ‘If you do, pray. Because that’s all either of us can do.’ He sat down on a wooden chair at the table by the window. Moses padded across the room, arranging himself at the old man’s feet.
    Sebastien caressed the dog’s head. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ve helped you as much as I can. If you’re bringing trouble to the valley, I want to know about it. Question one: who stabbed him?’
    Hannah remained still a moment, weighing up everything that had transpired. She felt her heart begin to thud in her chest. Moving to the cooker, she twisted the dial for one of the hobs and heard the hiss of gas. She found a box of matches and lit the range. Then she filled a kettle with water and placed it over the flame. ‘You’re right. You deserve answers,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll tell you. But before we do anything else, let me make some tea.’
    Sebastien’s face relaxed. ‘That would be most welcome.’
    ‘I think there’s powdered milk from the last century somewhere around.’
    She knew she couldn’t leave him with Nate for more than a moment. She had seen how quick and agile he could be. Opening the pantry door, heart a staccato drumming, she ducked inside. Found what she needed.
    Back in the kitchen, Sebastien had not strayed from his chair by the window. He glanced up at her as she aimed the shotgun at his chest and thumbed the safety switch.
    ‘I’ve seen that tattoo before, old man,’ she said. ‘You’d better start talking.’

C HAPTER 4
    Oxford
    1979
    Charles had only a moment to witness Nicole’s car flip over before a line of trees blurred past on the left, blocking his view.
    Hands tight on the steering wheel, teeth clenched in shock, he glanced once into his rear-view mirror before jamming his foot on the brakes. The Stag’s bonnet dived and its tyres shrieked. Charles’s seat belt snapped taut against his chest. He spun the wheel and turned around on the empty road.
    What was she thinking?
    Then