Bloodline by Fiona Mountain

Author:Fiona Mountain
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250091529
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Nineteen

THE TELEPHONE WOKE Natasha from fitful sleep two mornings later.

‘It’s me.’ Her sister, Abby, sounded tearful. ‘I’ve been trying to get you for days.’

‘Did you leave a message?’

‘No.’

Natasha rubbed her eyes. ‘Well then, how was I supposed to know—’

‘What’s going on with Mum and Dad?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘They’re not talking. Do you know what’s happened?’

‘Not really.’ The lie was heavy as lead on Natasha’s heart. ‘Look, why don’t you come up sometime next week after work? You could stay over and get the train back to London next morning.’

‘How about Wednesday?’

‘Fine.’ She wanted to see Abby but dreaded the conversation.

* * *

At the Snowshill Arms that lunchtime, Heidi was keeping company with the regulars, the Dynamic Domino Duo and Silent Gerald. In front of her on the table by the fireplace was one bowl of salad and another of chips.

‘Saint and sinner all in one, that’s me,’ she said when she spied Natasha.

Natasha sat down and Heidi shoved the chips in her direction. She dipped one in some ketchup and bit it, forced it down her tight throat. She realized she’d hardly eaten all day. It was a worrying fact that you could live longer without food than you could without sleep.

‘What have you been up to anyway?’

Natasha waved her hand, shooing everything away. ‘Talk about something nice.’

‘Hmmm. Let me see now. Crème brûlé to follow the chips?’

Heidi persuaded her to forsake vodka and join her with the Jack Daniels. Which took her right back to her rock and roll days and her first swig of whisky from Steven’s hip flask. She was about twelve years old and they were on a dig in France. ‘Don’t tell your mother,’ he’d warned as he’d slipped her the flask. She’d loved the fire in her throat, loved even more the shared conspiracy with her father. She no longer loved that conspiracy. Too wrapped up in the Helliers and the Seagroves, she hadn’t given her own family a moment’s thought for days.

Arnold arrived as Natasha was fiddling with the spoon, cracking the burnt, sugary crust of the brûlé. He was in his waistcoat, fresh from his morning shift at Snowshill Manor. ‘We had a horde of school kiddies,’ he grinned. ‘Couldn’t get enough of the stories about whether or not Charles Paget Wade was a bonafide vampire.’

‘I thought you were supposed to stick to the truth, not recycle old rumours.’

‘What is it they say? Repeat a rumour long enough and it becomes the truth.’

He delved in his pocket and pulled out a photocopied newspaper article, not unlike the one Toby had given to her about Alice Hellier. ‘I was going to push this through your letterbox on my way back. Been putting my historical advantage to good use again.’

Arnold’s enthusiasm was heartening and amusing. ‘For someone who, until about a year ago, thought genealogy was the study of little spirits that come popping up when you rub bottles, you’re a bit keen, aren’t you?’ Natasha read the headline out of the corner of her eye: ‘WINDOWS SMASHED AT SHADWELL’.

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