A Curious Incident by Vicki Delany

Author:Vicki Delany
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

Chapter Thirteen

The next morning, I skipped the leftover pizza and took ingredients out of the fridge and pantry to make a hearty, traditional English breakfast for Lauren and me. When the sausages were grilling and the bacon in the oven, I knocked on her door. “Time to get up. Breakfast in fifteen minutes, and then we’re going to the Emporium.”

Muttering came from the other side of the door, so I knew my house guest hadn’t absconded in the night.

I went back to the kitchen to finish cooking. I heard doors opening and water running, and ten minutes later, Lauren came in. She’d tied her long hair into a high, bouncy ponytail and put on shorts, a T-shirt, and white trainers. She looked rested and refreshed, ready to dive eagerly into another day. Whereas I probably looked anything but. I’d sat up for a long time last night, thinking things over.

I had sufficient information to start tracking Sheila Tierney down and to begin formulating some theories about the death of Anna Wentworth. Sheila would not want me tracking her down, but I didn’t much care what the fool of a woman wanted.

Ryan wouldn’t want me doing that either, but I didn’t intend to tell him.

Lauren and I had agreed that Snowball’s food and water dishes could be kept on top of the chest freezer in the mudroom to keep them out of reach of Violet, and the first thing Lauren did before coming to the table was to refill the bowls. While Snowball ate, Lauren settled herself at her place. She eyed the mountain of food on the plate in front of her. “Gee, Gemma. That’s a lot.”

“Is it? That’s what English people eat for breakfast.”

Three rashers of bacon, a plump sausage handmade by a local butcher, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, two fried eggs, toast with butter and jam.

“I usually have cereal,” she said.

“Oh. I have some muesli in the cupboard if you’d prefer.” I also normally had cereal, sometimes with fruit and yogurt, but I thought children needed a hearty cooked breakfast.

“No. This’ll be good.” She picked up her knife and fork and dove in.

I have to admit, I dove in myself. Nothing like a traditional English breakfast to start the day.

On the rare occasion I’ve given a thought to someday having children of my own, I’ve always decided it isn’t for me. I’m not much of a baby person. Other women—Jayne comes to mind—will ooh and coo over every infant and toddler that comes in reach, but I’ve never seen the appeal: crying, messy creatures with plenty of demands and poor conversational skills.

Without trying to be too obvious, I studied Lauren as she made her way through her breakfast. Yes, I thought, I’d like to have a daughter just like her. Smart and kind and beautiful, with a world of possibilities ahead of her. As though she knew I was thinking about her, she looked up suddenly and gave me a wide grin.

I stuffed food into my mouth. “I

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