At Death's Door Read Online Free

both come over,” said Daisy without conviction.
    Cordelia reacted to the frosty invitation by smiling non-committally and turning to say something to Becky, who was making noises. To cover any awkwardness, Pat got up, shook hands with the commodore, and made inquiries about swimming in the area. As they moved to the door, Cordelia, perhaps thinking she’d been rude, smiled again, one of her brilliant ones, and Caroline saw Daisy Critchley realize for the first time what a good-looking girl this could be. Caroline and Roderick saw them off and into their car at the front door with the usual courtesies, and when she came back into the sitting room, Caroline said:
    â€œAnd now they’ll be off to the Red Lion to spread the news around the village.”
    â€œI thought they said my father was not much of a local personality,” said Cordelia, sitting down again. “Why should anyone be interested?”
    â€œNot so much because you’re your father’s daughter as because you’re your mother’s,” said Caroline. “Actresses are always good for village gossip. And the fact that she’s a dame will add snob appeal.”
    â€œOh, yes, the damehood,” said Cordelia.
    â€œAnd the slight whiff of dated scandal will wing the story on its way,” put in Roderick. “But you must know what it’s like. You live in a village, don’t you?”
    Cordelia frowned and turned to Pat.
    â€œI don’t know. It’s different. I grew up there. . . . Mother’s lived there so long people sort of take her for granted. . . . Don’t they?”
    â€œPretty much,” said Pat after a pause for thought that was habitual to him. “If there’s a stranger in the pub, they might boast about her. Mostly they take her in their stride.”
    â€œWhen I moved in with Pat, there was talk,” said Cordelia. “But that was basically because he teaches in the village school. ‘Can we let our innocent babes—?’ You know the kind of thing. They didn’t ask, ‘What will her mother say?’ because really my mother is hardly in a position to say anything.”
    â€œNow,” said Caroline, “you’re eating with us.”
    â€œOh, no, please. I made it clear to your husband—”
    â€œJust for tonight. I’ve got a big casserole in the oven. We really must have a chance to get to know each other.”
    â€œOh, dear—we didn’t want to be any trouble. We’ve got the Primus, of course, and we were going to have sausages and beans.”
    â€œYou can have campers’ food for the rest of your stay. Tonight you’re going to eat properly.”
    Cordelia giggled.
    â€œWe’d probably have had sausages and beans if we’d been at home. I’m a terrible cook, and we’re as poor as church mice.”
    â€œI noticed the second-class stamp.” Roderick, turning to Pat, laughed. “Of course, teachers’ starting pay is pretty terrible, isn’t it?”
    â€œAbysmal. And I have an overdraft after teachers’ college. Everyone does. It’s the only way you can afford books.”
    â€œAnd you don’t have a job?” Caroline asked Cordelia.
    â€œA bit of journalism. I do any Pelstock story that’s going for the local rag, and sometimes I do special features for them. I had a chance of getting into Fleet Street. Being mother’s daughter does mean I have some contacts. But by the time the chance came up, I’d moved in with Pat.”
    â€œNever mind. Perhaps you’ll get an advance on the book.”
    â€œI’ve had one.” Cordelia grinned. “We spent it on second-hand furniture for the council house we’re in. It’s a bit worrying . . . in case the book isn’t what they’d hoped for. Still, they tell me publishers never ask for an advance back.”
    â€œThey don’t usually get it,