An Accidental Shroud Read Online Free Page B

to get too friendly. If Matthew eventually did come into the firm, it would only make matters difficult. 'Fair enough,' he repeated, 'only don't make it too much of a habit.'
    Matthew looked sullen, sketched a hasty farewell and Jake watched him roar off in his hotted-up Golf GTI, in a cloud of red dust. An intensely physical person, too interested in cars and sport and outdoor activities of any kind to have made much impression at school, totally uninterested in anything remotely artistic, only a perfect idiot would believe Matthew had any special, burning desire to spend the rest of his life selling antique jewellery.
    With another sigh, Jake turned from the window and took his tie off, loosened his collar. It was like an oven in the office. The air was heavy and thundery. Surely this long, hot summer must come to an end sometime.

3
    It was just after four and Christine, in a carefully chosen white linen trouser suit with a lot of gold costume jewellery, sat at the wheel of her open-topped Lancia outside the station, waiting for Lindsay.
    She was last out of the station, after all the others had gone, shoppers clutching classy green Harrods' bags arriving at the same time as commuters since it was Friday, the day they all left London early to extend the weekend. Lindsay, a music student, had her lute case over one shoulder, her bag on the other. She was carrying a heavy holdall but she appeared as unruffled and cool as ever. She stood hesitating at the entrance, as if unwilling to leave its shelter.
    Small and composed, uncreased after a hot and crowded train journey, her straight brown hair drawn back from her face, she was as unlike Christine as it was possible to be. Always neat and tidy, like a little girl dressed for a party, today she was wearing a cream silk shirt and a neat, coffee-coloured linen skirt, her only jewellery a pair of small pearl earrings. She frequently made Christine feel too highly-coloured and three sizes too big. Was it fancy that she looked paler than ever, or was it the heat, always so much more trying in the later summer than it was earlier, which gave her that look of fragile translucency? Oh God, Christine thought, with intuitive perception, she's still not better. They hadn't seen the last of the glandular fever that had plagued Lindsay on and off for the last five or six months, depressing and debilitating her. Her holiday in Italy didn't appear to have done her much good.
    'Lovely, lovely to see you, darling!'
    'Hello, Mother.' Lindsay held up her face to be kissed and they hugged, smiling. Their only point of resemblance, the wide, dazzling smile, was always a surprising and delightful thing to see on Lindsay's small, habitually grave face, but especially now. Until recently, she and Christine had always been close and had had a loving relationship, despite their differences in temperament; they had, after all, been alone together for sixteen years. But Lindsay, for some inexplicable reason, had closed in on herself during her illness, leaving Christine feeling shut out and unhappy.
    She'd always tried to be a conscientious mother, even when she'd had to work to support herself and Lindsay; apart from such considerations as natural affection, Christine couldn't bear not to be efficient at everything, including personal relationships. For the umpteenth time, she wondered where she'd gone wrong with Lindsay as she tied a scarf over her brilliant hair and from the glove compartment handed her daughter one, which Lindsay left on her lap.
    The big open car slid along smoothly and very fast, guided by Christine's well-shaped, capable hands on the wheel, moving through imperceptible gear changes and well-anticipated corners, so that Lindsay wasn't thrown around as, for instance, when Matthew drove. After she'd answered the usual detailed questionnaire from Christine: questions ranging from how was Italy, was she eating properly – and receiving truthful answers, for Lindsay never lied