The Hiding Places by Catherine Robertson

Author:Catherine Robertson [Catherine Robertson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781775536437
Publisher: Penguin Random House New Zealand
Published: 2015-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

Oran opened the door.

‘You’re tardy,’ he said.

‘At least I turn up for work,’ said April, as she hung her coat.

‘What can I say? When the black dog seizes me in his jaws, I cannot fight him.’

‘Do you always blame your actions on supernatural beings?’

‘I grant you that it may not be the most mature response,’ said Oran, following her up the hall, ‘but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any such creatures.’

The box sat untouched on Sunny’s table. It was not large, the size of a shoe box, and, judging by the faded print on the cardboard, had once held tins of custard powder. Edward stood over it with a pair of scissors, readying to slice through the packaging tape that held it shut.

Sunny rose to greet April with a kiss. ‘Tea, my dear? Or there is a last sliver of baklava. I began the evening with a whole plateful, but then it was set upon by a ravening horde. If two men can constitute a horde.’

‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’

Edward waited until Oran had resumed his seat and, scissors poised, met his eye.

‘Ready?’

‘No,’ said Oran.

‘Excellent,’ said Edward, and sliced open the box.

The contents went on the table one by one: ten small parcels, carefully wrapped in newspaper. From the way Edward handled them, they were obviously light in weight.

‘That’s the last.’ Edward peered into the box to be sure. ‘No incriminating documents or photographs. Just — whatever these are.’

‘Right.’

Oran was disappointed, April could tell. Everyone could tell; he had no gift for concealing his feelings. If that could be called a gift, she supposed.

‘What was the vicar’s daughter like?’ she asked.

‘Direct,’ said Edward. ‘And possessed of a face as tanned and lined as the back of a farmer’s neck.’

‘Strict, too,’ said Oran. ‘When she ordered her spaniel to sit I felt my own knees buckle.’

Edward sat down, pulled the first of the small parcels to him.

‘Feel free to shut your eyes while I unwrap this,’ he said to Oran.

‘I will not,’ said Oran. ‘If my fortune is about to be made, I don’t want to miss a second of it.’

A rattle as Sunny brought the tea tray. ‘No room on the table, I see, so please help yourselves.’

Then she caught sight of the object Edward had just unwrapped. ‘Good Lord—’

Edward held it out so they could all see. It was a Christ child in a crib, carved from wood.

‘A very little Lord,’ said Oran, setting it on the table.

Sunny reached for it, turned it gently over in her hand. ‘Rowan made this.’

‘Your Rowan?’ said April.

‘I’d know it anywhere,’ said Sunny. ‘He carved a whole nativity set when he was twelve years old. It sat on a shelf in the Blythes’ kitchen for years.’

Edward put his finger on another of the parcels. ‘Then I don’t think we need to be Sherlock Holmes to guess what the rest of these contain.’

‘Not my fortune.’ Oran sighed.

‘No,’ Edward agreed. ‘These wouldn’t rate highly on Big Mal’s list of prime pawn-ware. They’re too tasteful, for one.

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