Cornish Killing by Loveday Chrissie

Author:Loveday, Chrissie [Loveday, Chrissie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2015-06-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Emma looked inside, but all seemed to be as she had left it, except for the open door. She was certain she had locked it. Gripping her bag once more to use as a weapon if she needed it, she looked around. The living room, which she was never using, looked exactly as she had last seen it. She went up the stairs cautiously, silently and looked into the bedroom. Quite what she would have done if anyone was there, she didn’t know. She looked into the other bedroom but that too was as she had left it. Someone was seriously trying to make her more nervous. It had to be Rob, she reasoned. He had threatened her that morning and, for whatever reason, seemed not to want her around. All seemed well, so she gave a shrug and went back downstairs.

She went outside and looked around. Everything seemed just as she had left it. She went up the garden to what she thought of as the loo and all was well there. She didn’t leave anything of value in the house, so just had to accept that all was well. She sat on the old armchair and waited. She picked up her book and began to read. She actually fell asleep after a little while and woke to hear someone calling her.

‘Hallo?’ she called out loud.

‘Hi. We’re just on the other side of your hedge. Is it okay to come through?’ It was Sam and his mother.

‘Oh, yes, of course. Can I help?’

‘Thanks. Yes. If you could help Mum through, I’ll then pass the chairs.’

Emma helped his mother to climb through and then took charge of the chairs. Sam handed her the rest of the things and then climbed through himself. They all walked down the path and into the cottage.

‘Welcome,’ she said.

‘Oh dear. It isn’t how I remembered it,’ she said. ‘It looks sort of forgotten. Very sad.’

‘I was hoping you would remember something. Anything, to make it seem like what it used to be.’

‘I’m sorry. I really am. Let’s sit outside and eat the fish and chips.’

‘Come on, Mum. You sit here and I’ll hand out the food. I assume you’ve got vinegar?’ Emma shook her head. ‘Never mind. We put some on. Tuck in and enjoy.’

They all three sat on the picnic chairs and ate, chatting as they did so. When they were finished, Sam collected the papers together and they started their tour of the cottage. His mother, Joan, made comments as they walked round.

‘Those beds are different. I know I only saw them for a while. But they were definitely different. They had headboards and sort of floral sheets or covers.’

‘So, what do you think happened to them?’ Emma asked. She felt relieved in a way. Relieved that Charlie’s Aunt Martha hadn’t been forced to sleep in these beds.

‘Whatever’s happened to the rest of the furniture, I suppose,’ replied Joan. ‘Oh dear, I feel like an intruder.’

‘Don’t be silly Mum,’ Sam told her. ‘It’s hardly your fault now, is it? What we need to do is to make a list of what’s missing.

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