A Darker Music Read Online Free

pale tongue. ‘Will you cook special things for me?’
    ‘Of course. What would you like?’
    Mrs Hazlitt let her head fall back on the pillow. ‘I have little appetite. I’ll leave it to you. But very small serves, please. And I need to sleep a lot. The trip back tired me out. Maybe something later this afternoon? I don’t want to interfere with your cooking for my husband and Martin. They’re both here?’
    Vagueness might be a symptom of her illness. ‘Yes. So, if I get you something around five, before they come in, would that suit you? You don’t want anything now?’
    ‘Just sleep. The orange juice is all I need for now.’ She lay against the pillows and closed her eyes. Mary took the hint. There would be time to look around this room later. Her first impression was that it was quite different from the rest of the house: modern, luxurious and, but for a light film of dust, clean. And Mrs Hazlitt was occupying the only bed in the room — a single one.
    P AUL WAS OUT for the day playing golf. When Martin came in for his dinner, Mary told him she’d met his mother.
    Martin looked up, his face showing more animation than she’d seen so far, almost a boyish eagerness. ‘Did you? She all right?’
    Mary wondered why he hadn’t been in to find out for himself. ‘I have no idea what she’s like when she’s well.’
    ‘No, I suppose.’ He seemed to consider what he should tell this housekeeper. ‘She’s … she always used to be doing something,’ he said finally. ‘Cooking or making something. Did you go in her room?’
    ‘Briefly.’
    ‘She’s got her music in there.’
    The note of censure in his voice made Mary curious.
    ‘You don’t like music,’ she said.
    ‘I don’t mind it. Dad can’t stand it, though. That classical stuff Mum likes.’
    Mary let that go. ‘How long has your mother been sick?’ She hoped the question was impersonal enough to rate an answer, but Martin seemed eager to talk.
    ‘It’s months now. Seems ages. She just said she’d have to go up to Perth to get something fixed. Dad said it was probably some kind of woman thing.’ He looked at her seeking enlightenment, but she couldn’t help.
    Mary was intrigued. Maybe Paul and his wife hadn’t wanted to worry Martin. ‘Was she in hospital up there?’
    ‘Yeah. For ages.’
    It must have been something serious. While it was no concern of hers, Mary’s curiosity was piqued. Anyway, she rationalised, she’d be able to do a better job of looking after the invalid if she understood what was wrong. But, plainly, neither of the Hazlitt men was going to tell her any more; at least, not yet.
    A FTER DINNER, Mary went exploring outside. It was good to get out of the house, with its smells of dust and secrets, and into the bracing fresh air.
    There was a wire fence, probably to keep the sheep out, and within it were the remains of a comprehensive vegetable garden. There was a row of corrugated iron rainwater tanks, and a gnarled creeper festooning the length of the verandah. At one end was the concrete dome of a big underground water tank, and a long bed that ran the length of the house seemed to be an orchard of deciduous fruit trees. There was also a herb bed with flourishing parsley, mint and chives, and sere remains of other herbs that may or may not revive when spring came. The parsley was a bonus, though, and a bay tree so tall that at first sight she’d failed to recognise it.
    Beyond the citrus hedge, there was another house. Mary pushed her way through the foliage, careful to avoid spiders. There was no smoke coming from the chimney, no sound or movement, but there were wheel tracks worn through the carpet of fine grass. It looked older than the house she was staying in, built of stone. There was no garden, but the usual array of rainwater tanks, and one very large, very old, leafless tree. It wasn’t Gloria and Gayleen’s house, she was pretty sure of that. Further away she caught a glimpse of more buildings, but