A Ghost in the Machine Read Online Free Page A

what that illness was, it proved impossible to say. He could be making it up, using it to keep her at a distance. Perhaps he was falling out of love.
    There was a time she could have touched him anywhere and everywhere at any hour of the day or night. They had sex once in his office, sprawled across the desk behind unlocked doors minutes before a Japanese business delegation was due to be shown in. Now he had not approached her for weeks.
    Judith would never admit to anyone, and had only once, in a painfully sharp moment of insight, admitted to herself, that she was glad Ashley was ill. Ill meant out of circulation. She wanted him to get better – of course she did – but perhaps not a hundred per cent better. Not restored to his former Apollonian strength and beauty, for then she would be back on the old treadmill. Jealously assessing every woman he looked at or spoke to, needing to denigrate everything about them: their hair, their skin, their eyes, their clothes. Not aloud, of course. It would never do for Ashley to become aware that she was terrified of losing him; to put the idea in his mind.
    Judith’s thoughts flew nervously back to the wake in Carey Lawson’s garden. Tired as he was, Ashley had seemed really happy to be out and about, mixing with people. And genuinely regretful when she had dragged him home on the pretence of a sudden attack of nausea. Of course that might have been because of the Lawsons’ ghastly daughter flashing her legs and teeth at him, half naked like a tart in a brothel. Teasing surely, for what interest could an ailing middle-aged man have for a young, strong, lovely…? Judith fought to remain calm, breathing slowly and evenly. She had got him away – that was the main thing. The girl was here for the funeral; a day or two would see the back of her.
    But rumour in the village already had it that her parents might be moving down for good. So Kate, with her freckled, apricot skin and soft ash-blonde hair pinned up any-old-how, would be a stone’s throw away. In her late forties she looked, in spite of the dreadful time she had been having with Mallory, a good ten years younger. Ashley had always liked Kate. She was gentle and intelligent, quite sexy in a school-marmish sort of way – oh sod it.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œI’m all right.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Ashley looked worried. He started nervously brushing the skin on his arms. “Maybe you could put off this meeting tonight, Jude. Say you’re not well.”
    â€œBetter not. It’s a new contact. Don’t want to make a bad impression.”
    â€œWhat does he do again?”
    â€œManufactures surgical instruments. A small firm but apparently stable. Seems his accountant’s retiring so he’s looking round.”
    â€œIsn’t it strange you’re not meeting at the factory?”
    â€œNot at all. Business meetings often take place at hotels.”
    Just then the fax began chattering in Judith’s office, a tiny, dark place next to the stairs. “The visitors’ parlour,” they had larkily christened it when first moving into their Victorian villa. Where the gentry would have presented their cards and been offered a dry sherry and a caraway biscuit before moving into the larger sitting room to exchange discreet gossip. They had seen themselves entertaining too in a modest way but somehow it had never come about. And now, with every spare penny going on Ashley’s health, they couldn’t afford it.
    â€œI know who it is.” She moved away from the window, widening the space between herself and her husband. Giving Ashley what he called “room to breathe.” “It’s slimy Alec.”
    â€œIs that any way to speak of a client?”
    â€œFaxing his phoney expenses. He’s claiming for a new Alfa Romeo, which was stolen almost as soon as it was delivered. Alas—”
    â€œThe paperwork was still