Snow In April by Rosamunde Pilcher

Author:Rosamunde Pilcher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

5

Oliver did not get back to Cairney until half past four. He was tired. Duncan Fraser, besides standing him a heavy luncheon, had insisted on discussing every aspect of the financial and legal details of the taking over of Cairney. Nothing had been left out and Oliver’s head swam with facts and figures. Acreages, yields, heads of cattle, the value of cottages, the condition of steadings and barns. It was necessary, of course, and right, but he had found it distressing, and he made the long drive home through the darkening afternoon in a state of black depression, trying to accept the truth; that, by giving up Cairney, even to Duncan, it was inevitable that he was giving up something of himself, and cutting away the last of the connections that held him to his youth.

The conflict within himself had left him drained of energy. His head ached, and he could think of nothing but the sanctuary of his home, the comfort of his own armchair, his own fireside, and possibly, a soothing cup of tea.

The house had never looked so secure, so welcoming. He took the Land-Rover around to the garage, parked it there, and went indoors, through the kitchen. He found Mrs Cooper, at her ironing board, but with her eyes on the door. When he appeared, she gave a sigh of relief, and set the iron down with a thump.

“Oh, Oliver, I hoped it was you. I heard the car, and I hoped it was you.”

Something in her face made him say, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just the boy’s sister went out for a walk, and she’s not back yet, and it’s nearly dark.”

Oliver stood there, in his overcoat, and slowly digested this unwelcome piece of information.

“When did she go?”

“After lunch. Not that she ate anything, just picked away, didn’t take enough to keep a flea alive.”

“But it’s … half past four.”

“That’s just it.”

“Where’s Jody?”

“He’s in the nursery. He’s fine and not worried. I took him his tea, the wee lamb.”

Oliver frowned. “But where did she go?”

“She didn’t say. ‘I’m just going for a wee walk,’ she said.” Mrs Cooper’s face was drawn with anxiety. “You don’t think something could have happened?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Oliver, bitterly. “She’s such a fool, she could drown herself in a puddle.”

“Oh, poor wee soul…”

“Poor wee soul nothing, she’s a bloody nuisance,” said Oliver brutally.

He was headed for the back staircase, meaning to go and find Jody and pick his brains, but at that moment the telephone started ringing. Oliver’s first reactions were that at last the lines had been repaired, but Mrs Cooper slapped her hand over her heart and said, “Perhaps that’s the po-lice now.”

“Probably nothing of the sort,” said Oliver, but for all that he went, more swiftly than usual, out of the kitchen and along to the library to answer the call.

“Cairney,” he barked.

“Is that Cairney House?” A female voice, very refined.

“Yes it is, Oliver Cairney speaking.”

“Oh, Mr Cairney, this is Mrs Henderson speaking from the Strathcorrie Hotel.”

Oliver braced himself.

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