Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd by Alan Bradley

Author:Alan Bradley [Bradley, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical, Young Adult, Adult
ISBN: 9780345539960
Amazon: 0345539966
Barnesnoble: 0345539966
Goodreads: 28814691
Publisher: Delacorte Press
Published: 2016-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

· TWELVE ·

THERE IS AN ART to staging a convincing accident. It is not as easy as you may think—particularly on short notice. First and foremost, it must look completely natural and spontaneous. Secondly, there must be nothing comical about it, since comedy saps sympathy.

I had but a fraction of a second to think before putting my plan into effect.

As I crossed the set of footprints at the cottage gate, I lurched in my seat and let one elbow come up, apparently by accident, yanking Gladys’s handlebars to one side and launching her into a vicious skid which I then tried madly to correct by applying the opposite handlebar, but it was too late. Fighting for balance, I slewed and skidded this way and that, seeming sometimes almost to gain control and then to lose it again. The result was a spectacular series of vicious fishtails, slipping and sliding from side to side on the road like a drunken skater before leaving it entirely and hurtling across the ditch to land with an alarming crash and a clatter in a holly hedge with Gladys, her wheels spinning crazily, on top of me.

I lay perfectly still while I counted to twenty. Death must appear to be a very real possibility, and if not death, then at least a serious coma.

At last I opened one eye just a crack and risked a peek. One of the curtains had been lifted and a white, shocked face was staring out at me, a hand covering its mouth, aghast.

Why was Lace Curtains not rushing outside to see if I was all right?

I needed to go into Act Two of my little drama.

While raising my head slowly and painfully, using both hands to give it a series of slow chiropractic adjustments, I was able to note that the derelict Austin at Thornfield Chase had not been moved. There were, as I suspected there would be, no footprints in the snow. Nor had the police visited this morning. The only tracks on the scene were those of the car that had dropped Lace Curtains off at the gate, and the single set of prints that led from there to the door of the cottage.

Painfully, lifting Gladys out of the way, I climbed into a kneeling position, hanging on to the holly hedge to assist me. In fact, I didn’t really have to act too much: I had taken more of a battering than I expected. My hands and face were scratched by the holly and my bones felt as if they had been dumped into a sack and shaken.

Authenticity comes at a cost.

I unwound my scarf and wrapped it round my head, taking care to cover one eye. A couple of holly berries, secretly seized and crushed between thumb and finger, provided an admirable substitute for additional blood, which I smeared dramatically on the far side of my face while adjusting my makeshift bandage.

That done, I hauled myself fully to my feet, staggered across the road and up the path, and banged on the door.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.