One Summer in Little Penhaven by Angela Britnell

Author:Angela Britnell [Britnell, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Company
Published: 2023-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘At least they don’t hang smugglers these days or transport them for life.’ Jory’s joke fell flat.

‘You’ve got to be outside at ten, right?’ Cadan asked.

‘Yeah and I need you to stay in here with my dear wife out of sight.’ His brother looked thoughtful. ‘We both know I wasn’t much for school but one poem stuck with me. An old Rudyard Kipling one that says something about watching the wall while the gentlemen go by.’ Jory grasped Fliss’s hand. ‘Promise me you’ll—’

‘They aren’t gentlemen and they aren’t doing it for even a half-noble cause. I’m supposed to be the upper-class naive one here but even I’m smart enough to know they’ll hurt you as soon as look at you.’

Cadan’s mind ran riot imagining all the ways this could go wrong.

‘At least let your brother help.’

‘Not going to happen. That’d be an open invitation for them to teach me a lesson. No one else is supposed to know about this.’

‘I’ll hide around the back of the cottage, Fliss, in case he needs me.’ Cadan held up a hand to stop his brother interrupting. ‘I promise no one will see me unless it’s absolutely necessary. Look, we’ve got another hour yet so how about a cup of tea?’

‘I’m going to put my feet up.’ She threw them both a withering stare. ‘You two can do what you want.’

An awkward silence filled the space after she left them alone.

‘What am I going to do if this isn’t the end?’ Jory slumped forward with his head in his hands.

Cadan didn’t want to cause an argument but anyone with a semblance of a brain could see the way this would go. A successful run tonight would lead to another and another until they got caught. Either way his brother ended up in jail. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered—’

‘No. I’m not calling the police. With my record they’d still lock me up too, maybe for less time but I’d pay, Cade.’

‘But that was juvenile stuff. They might not count . . .’

Jory dragged to his feet and headed into the kitchen, or at least what passed for one. One rickety table, two unmatched chairs, a mini-fridge and a camping stove hardly rated as the culinary hub of the house.

I’ve never stuck at anything.

This cottage was his brother’s metaphorical line in the sand and Cadan’s job was to help him cross it. Not by doing the work for him but with him, backing him up and showing he could do whatever he put his mind to. ‘We’ll get through this together. You’ve got me and Fliss on your side.’ He grinned. ‘And don’t forget that little son or daughter of yours.’ He struggled to keep a smile on his face.

‘I don’t have much of a track record.’

‘True.’

‘Thanks a bunch.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Shush.’ Jory’s face paled. ‘Get down. They’re here. The curtains don’t hide much and they mustn’t know anyone else is here.’

‘They’re early.’

‘Probably trying to catch me out.’ His face turned stony in the harsh light from the single bulb swinging from the ceiling.

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