At Death's Door Read Online Free Page A

anyhow,” said Roderick, who over the years had learned a good deal about publishers. “Well, that’s settled. You’ll eat with us.”
    â€œBut we must put the tent up first,” said Pat, getting up. “Easier before it gets dark.”
    Becky thought they were going and began making noises of protest. Cordelia bent over with great kindness and took her by the hands.
    â€œBut you can come with us, can’t you, Becky? And help us put up our tent?”
    â€œThat would be kind—she’d love that,” said Caroline. “There’s a garden seat at the far end, near the new houses. If you put her on that, she’ll be quite happy just watching.”
    Pat took one hand, Cordelia the other, and then all three went out to the ancient Volkswagen in the driveway. Caroline, getting the dinner organized in the kitchen, saw Cordelia take her very tenderly down to the seat. Becky gazed entranced as Pat humped the tent down the lawn, then sleeping bags, stove, and supplies. Soon Cordelia and Pat were erecting the tent with a smooth efficiency obviously born of experience.
    â€œShe’s a very nice girl,” said Caroline when Roderick came into the kitchen.
    â€œWoman. Yes, she seems charming.”
    â€œI can’t see anything of your father in her.”
    â€œNor much of Myra, come to that. Though she is very pretty when she smiles.”
    â€œYou noticed. She could be very attractive altogether if she slimmed and took a little trouble. Funnily enough, she reminded me of that picture of your grandmother that your father always carried around with him—probably because she was plump, too. They’re both awfully good with Becky. The boy seems to have a quiet—I don’t know—”
    â€œStrength. It’s a cliché, but it seems true. Whereas she—I felt on the phone, and still do—doesn’t seem quite to have grown up.”
    â€œNo. But remember she’s had Myra Mason as a mother. Very famous, and I’d guess frightfully dominating. She probably never gave the girl space to mature, to become her own person. Children of famous people often do grow up rather inadequate.”
    â€œThank you,” said Roderick. Caroline laughed and kissed him.
    â€œYour father was so seldom around when you were a child he didn’t have a chance to restrict you,” she said. “Too busy chasing his women.”

Chapter 3
    T HE OLD RECTORY, MAUDSLEY, was two miles outside Maudsley proper. It had originally served for the pastor to a tiny rustic church and a few agricultural cottages attached to the estate of a landed proprietor, in whose gift the living had been. Then it had been taken over to serve for Maudsley, and then, in the seventies, sold off as being too difficult to heat and maintain. Vicars, these days, were less philoprogenitive than their nineteenth-century counterparts.
    The house was rambling, ramshackle, and inconsistent. The good rooms gave out on the lawn, while those on the other side were dark and poky. Only from the upstairs could one get a view of the sea. The new houses at the bottom of the garden were an eyesore, but Caroline had several friends among the women who lived there, for architectural taste has little bearing on character or disposition. On the whole she was happy at the Rectory and did not regret the decision to move in there that had been forced upon them.
    The day after the young couple’s arrival, while she was washing up, Caroline saw Pat setting off in the direction of the cliff path down to the beach. Ten minutes later Cordelia arrived, bursting with eagerness to get started. She had in her hand a notebook, a little set of colored felt pens, and a packet of sandwiches made with sliced bread.
    â€œI can’t wait to get down to work,” she said.
    Caroline took the hint and took her straight through the dismal hall to a rather inconveniently shaped room off it.
    â€œI thought I’d