Menace by Wright L. R

Author:Wright, L. R. [Wright, L. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Canada
ISBN: 9780770427986
Google: 9agFAAAACAAJ
Goodreads: 4823207
Publisher: Seal Books
Published: 2001-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

There were two kinds of bright winter day in this part of the world, observed Olive Parfit that same morning, gazing through her kitchen window. One kind was brilliant – exuberant with shimmering sunlight and a deep blue firmament, the snow-burnished mountains blazing against the sky; the world sparkled and made the heart pound. The other kind – like today – was a pastel sort of a day. The sky was a dreamy mix of blue and shallow shades of grey, and the sluggish sap had flushed tree branches and underbrush a pinkish colour that looked like flesh.

Olive stepped outside, pushed the wheelbarrow aside, and walked to a large poplar that grew not far from her back porch. Stooping, she carefully brushed aside the drifts of autumn leaves, looking for the pale shoots of snowdrops and crocuses. It was too early, though.

She stood and surveyed her garden. After the crocuses, grape hyacinths. Then daffodils. And tulips. Olive, dreaming of spring, nonetheless felt melancholy on this early January morning, as if some part of her brain or body had received unpleasant information and was withholding it, for the moment, from the rest of her.

Her backyard, although small, was terraced, because it sloped sharply downward. A rock wall dividing it roughly in half was almost entirely covered by periwinkle plants; Olive loved its blue-studded look in springtime. In the middle of the wall, a set of steps led to the lower half of the yard, which Olive had let go. Someone years ago had planted bamboo and forsythia there, plus a few rhododendron bushes. These plantings had achieved great height and breadth, encircling and almost engulfing the small patch of lawn. It looked like a wild place, which pleased her. Raccoons who lived in the woods behind sometimes visited, and she had seen an occasional skunk, too. And of course there were plenty of squirrels, and birds. She decided to put a birdbath down there, in the middle of the rough circle of tall grass.

Olive, shivering, admitted that today was a winter day that, despite the erratic sunshine, offered no sign of spring. She would wait another week, maybe two, and then cut some forsythia branches to bring indoors, where their buds would slowly open, offering her bright, sunshiny flowers.

She went back inside, clasping her robe tight around her, closing the door firmly and shooting the lock.

Olive wandered restlessly through her house. She was troubled this morning, and she didn’t know why. It was time to revisit the thought of taking a trip somewhere, she decided. She would consult with someone at the travel agency in the village. But not today. Today she didn’t feel like going out.

Here it was, almost noon, and she was still in her housecoat. “What the hell,” said Olive, standing in her downstairs hall. A sick, cold sensation enveloped her. She found it difficult for a moment to catch her breath. It was as if something or someone were trying to smother her. She pressed her hand on her chest, hard, and breathed deeply, slowly in, and slowly out.

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