Angels of the Flood Read Online Free Page B

growing. All the horror lies ahead. But what horror? What was it that lay ahead?
    She forced herself back into the present. There must be some way to empty her mind of these half-remembered fragments.
    ‘Let’s eat, shall we?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

Chapter 3
Mousetrap
    K ATE COULDN’T SAY SHE hadn’t been warned.
    Denied the chance to talk about the altered paintings, David fell back on the topic that he’d already admitted was his current obsession. Kate tried to give him her full attention as he told her his story, the tale of a clever young man who, on his return from Florence at the age of nineteen, had taken the easy route and slipped into a job with the family firm. This happened to be a chain of dry cleaners, but could just as easily have been car dealers or food shops or whatever: the money was good and the work was undemanding. The young man had thought he could play the game and take the money and live comfortably while he waited to discover what he really wanted to do with his life, until gradually he’d realized it wasn’t a game any more and hadn’t been for years. He was head of the firm, people depended on him, he had a wife and three children, and it was far, far too late to change direction.
    So the no-longer young man had softened the edges of boredom with drink and meaningless affairs, waiting for the moment when he’d make a break for freedom and kick-start his real life. Then suddenly, a couple of years ago, the decision had been taken out of his hands. The family firm was swallowed up by a national conglomerate, his wife turned into a walking cliche and ran off with her fitness coach, and he found himself middle-aged and marooned, looking across the empty half of their bed at a photograph of a laughing young couple he no longer even recognized.
    Kate tried to listen to his story, but her mind kept skittering away. She was irritated at the way the Marsyas picture had almost derailed her talk that afternoon, and some of her irritation was spilling over to include David. She tugged a grape from the bunch heaped up on the celadon plate in the centre of the table and examined the delicate grey bloom on its ruby skin, the way it absorbed the light. Her mind kept returning to the questions that nagged at her: who had sent those pictures and why?
    ‘Kate? Am I boring you?’
    ‘What? Of course not… I… well, it’s been a long day.’ With any luck, he’d take the hint and go. Maybe if she was left alone, she could forget about the whole business.
    ‘Not that long,’ said David tersely. And, then, ‘You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?’
    ‘Of course not.’ Kate stood up suddenly and began clearing away the plates. She yawned ostentatiously. ‘Coffee before you go?’
    ‘Not for me.’ His black eyebrows slewed towards each other in a frown. ‘There has to be some way to figure out what the pictures mean.’ He just wouldn’t let the problem alone. After all, there can’t be that many people who know how you and Francesca were connected. Try to think, Kate. If you don’t get to the bottom of it, you’re just going to be sitting here waiting for the next one to come and that’s—’
    ‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop going on about it!’ Suddenly Kate was shaking with anger. ‘I’m sick of thinking about the bloody pictures. Why don’t you just go! They don’t matter, can’t you understand that?’
    ‘Kate, I’m sorry, but—’
    ‘And it’s got nothing to do with you! You only make it worse. Just because you were there, you think you’ve got some kind of inside track, but you couldn’t be more wrong. You know nothing about it, absolutely nothing!’
    ‘Okay, okay.’ David stood up and picked up the bowl of grapes.
    ‘Keep out of this!’ said Kate furiously, reaching to snatch the bowl from his hands, but it slipped from her grasp just as he released his hold on it and fell to the floor with a crash. Pale green shards of