Ursula's Secret by Mairi Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

you.”
    “No problem, Miss Shaw.”
    “Barney.” A slightly disapproving voice behind her made Lexy spin round to the now-occupied lectern. “That will be all. I’ll take care of our guest now.” Attention turned to Lexy and the voice changed; its hard edge softened into a slippery obsequiousness that would have put Uriah Heep to shame. “How may I help you, ma’am?”
    “I …” Lexy was mesmerised by the sheer height of the man, hovering over his lectern like a minister in a pulpit. Or, she thought irreverently, like a vulture. A Disney vulture, straight out of The Jungle Book . The hooded eyes—
    “A table for Miss Shaw, please,” Barney prompted.
    “Yes. Sorry. Yes, a table. For one, please.”
    “Enjoy your meal, Miss Shaw.” Barney bowed and was gone before she could thank him.
    As she walked the length of the busy dining room, aware of conversation slowing at the tables she passed, their occupants looking up to take in this newcomer, she became increasingly self-conscious. She was glad she’d ditched the backpack but knew it would take more than a pashmina to lend her the air of sophistication such opulent surroundings seemed to demand. At the far end, the restaurant extended out onto a long verandah alongside the same immaculate garden her room overlooked.
    “Inside or out, madam?”
    “Oh out, please. Definitely out.” There were fewer occupied tables on the verandah and these were interspersed with plants and carved fret screens, which offered greater privacy than the expanse of the inside room. As if intuiting her desire for concealment, or deducing from her appearance that she might cause less upset to the regular clientele if tucked discreetly away, the maître d’ led her smartly to a small table at the far end of the verandah, beyond the view of the other diners. He held a chair back for her, sliding it gently beneath her as she sat, then snapped a white linen napkin open and sailed it down onto her lap.
    “Something to drink, Miss Shaw?” he asked as he laid an open menu down on the table in front of her. “One of our special cocktails perhaps, or might I suggest a glass of champagne as an aperitif?”
    “You most certainly might,” Lexy said with feeling. She’d earned it after running the gauntlet of that dining room. A slight raising of an eyebrow led her to reappraise him. Not Disney at all. That look was pure Vulcan, all those nights with Danny watching Star Trek reruns …
    “Um, yes.” She realised he was waiting for her to speak. “A glass of champagne, please.” Champagne? Again? Her conscience pricked her. Hardly appropriate for a grieving daughter. Anyone would think she was celebrating, which she wasn’t, or rich, which she most definitely wasn’t, but she’d worry about budgeting tomorrow. Besides, she hated to think what would happen to the Vulcan’s eyebrows if she ordered a pint of cider.
    A slim flute was brought over by a waiter who took her order and then left her in peace to contemplate the still-unopened message she’d tucked inside the cover of her notebook. She was intrigued but reluctant to open it, didn’t want to disturb her sense of isolation and distance. Not running. Or hiding, of course. Who was she kidding? Danny had seen straight through her bluster.
    But this message. No one was expecting her. No one even knew her here, or knew what had happened to her mother, or to Ursula, which was a big part of why she’d come. Had she even told anyone she was coming? Danny, but this wasn’t him. And the lawyer. She was going to contact the office here, but this hardly looked like an official letter. Besides, Lexy hadn’t said when she was coming, or where she’d be staying.
    She was rattled. She’d been relishing the feeling of anonymity, of freedom. That someone had found her, had seen fit to communicate with her already had dispelled that all too quickly. She’d open it after dinner. Procrastination, thy name is Lexy . She tucked the note away