Slingshot: A Spycatcher Novel by Matthew Dunn

Author:Matthew Dunn [Dunn, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780062038029
Amazon: 0062038028
Goodreads: 16248061
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2013-06-25T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Six

Betty Mayne sat at the kitchen table, watching Sarah attempt to peel and slice two cloves of garlic. It had taken Alfie two days to succeed in getting Sarah to accompany him to the nearest town to buy groceries. Today she’d reluctantly agreed, largely because her husband James had jokingly told her that if she didn’t go he could finally tell all their friends that he’d become the dominant partner in their relationship. It was now evening, the blue sky darkening into dusk, and Alfie was making his usual rounds of the hunting lodge’s grounds, setting his traps, watching and listening, having a smoke in the icy, fresh Highlands air, checking for anything that looked unusual, always keeping one hand close to his pistol.

Betty was wearing a thick tweed jacket, skirt, and hiking boots—clothes she’d worn to take James on a hike around the mountainous estate earlier in the day. James had cursed and wheezed and grumbled for most of the walk, but as they’d strolled alongside the loch toward the lodge one hour ago he told Betty that he’d had the best day he could remember, had decided that London life was no longer for him, recited the fauna and flora they’d seen on their route, and said that he was very worried about his wife.

He was now preparing a fire, and probably pouring himself a slug of single malt.

“Would you like me to help you, my dear?” Betty watched Sarah reach for shallots.

“You could get me a glass of wine.” Sarah’s hand shook as she held the knife. “Join me in one?”

“Not when I’m working.” Betty stood, poured a glass of Shiraz, and handed Sarah the glass. “What are you cooking?”

“I don’t know . . . yet.”

“Keep it simple.”

“Simple isn’t good enough. I’m being judged by the men.”

“Actually, you’re being judged by me. The men will eat anything. They just want to see you moving.”

Sarah held the knife still. “I know.”

“What else do you know?”

“More than you!”

“I’m sure you do, my dear.” Betty moved alongside her. “Maybe just put the chicken on top of what you’ve already chopped. Onions, garlic, celery, herbs. Bit of wine. Keep it simple. Blimey, Alfie will think he’s in heaven.”

“You’re patronizing me.”

“I’m talking to you.” Betty put her hand on top of Sarah’s knife-holding hand. “Shall we slice some potatoes, sauté them first, then add them to the mix?”

Sarah said between gritted teeth, “I don’t normally play the domestic housewife.”

Betty patted her hand. “Then what do you do?”

“I arbitrate corporate litigation. You wouldn’t understand.”

Betty nodded. “I wouldn’t.”

“Playing dumb?” Sarah grabbed the chicken and put it on top of the vegetables.

“Just being myself, my dear.” Betty looked at Sarah, saw that her ordinarily beautiful face was greasy and swollen, full of anxiety, tortured. She picked up Sarah’s glass of wine, took a sip, smiled, and placed the glass next to Sarah’s fingers. “Rules are much more fun when they’re broken.”

“You’re not breaking any rules. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Perhaps, but you wouldn’t understand that, my dear.

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