Cradle to Grave Read Online Free

up, stretched his cramped arm and fetched the Bladnoch to refill their glasses, then sat down in his own chair opposite.
    ‘You have to make it something you’ve got to do. Set yourself a target and stick to it. What is there you’re interested in but never had time to do – yoga, flower-arranging?’
    Majory gave him a quelling look, but she was thinking. ‘They sent me on a short psychology course last year. That was fascin­ating. Maybe I might pursue that, get a reading list. View it as professional development . . .’
    The next morning she had got up with a sense of purpose, and though the worries and frustration certainly remained, her programme of study meant that she felt in control of her life once more. The fitness regime had been reinstated and her household, finding her recognisable again as the woman they knew, had breathed a collective sigh of relief.
    And then yesterday the tribunal had cleared her name. Now all she had to do, she told herself firmly as she checked for eggs and collected up the pails, was to get on with the job and live down the humiliation. And rebuild her bridges with Tam MacNee, who apart from the most stiff and formal expressions of regret, had been a stranger to her over these interminable four months.
    She felt another nervous twinge in her stomach as she squelched back to the farmhouse.

2
    Alick Buchan was making no attempt to hurry his breakfast. He supped his porridge and drank his tea with maddening deliberation, while his wife, casting anxious looks but saying nothing, bustled about him as if her own busyness might nudge him into action.
    Beth Brown, aching in every limb and feeling now the bruises and cuts she had been too shocked to notice last night, sat gripping her mug of tea so tightly that her knuckles showed white. Her brown hair straggled round her pale face, and her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Her fitful sleep had been punctuated by hideous dreams: she was in prison again; now she was standing in the dock; the court was rising; the judge had terrible flashing eyes; then the roof fell and she was buried alive under tons of earth . . . She had forced herself awake at last and, too afraid to go back to sleep, had sat up shivering in the cold, grey dawn.
    It was barely light outside even now, with a leaden sky. When she had heard sounds of movement, Beth had dragged herself to her feet and got dressed in the jeans and sweater she’d found lying on a chair beside her. The jeans were a bit tight, but she could get into them if she left the waist fastening undone. She sipped at the tea as if even swallowing was an effort.
    Eventually, able to bear it no longer, Maidie said to her husband, ‘Why don’t you try and start the jeep while I make your toast? You’ll have to go – the phone’s still out, and dear knows when they’ll get it mended.’
    Grudgingly, Alick got to his feet and went outside. Maidie peered out of the rain-streaked kitchen window, reporting on his progress. ‘He’s shut the bonnet now. Oh, and wiped his hands on the back of his jeans. That’s good. Oily marks to get out in the next wash.’
    Just as she spoke there was a loud wail from upstairs. Maidie pulled a face. ‘That’s Calum. I’ll have to get to him before he wakes up Gran. Can you make the toast for Alick, Beth? If it’s ready for him, he maybe won’t sit down again.’
    Stiffly, Beth got up. It hurt to move, but if there was something she could do to be useful, she didn’t mind the pain. It had been all too clear last night that, however kind Maidie might be, Beth was an unwarranted intrusion as far as Alick was concerned. A small spark of anger flickered; she didn’t want to be here, any more than he wanted to have her. It wouldn’t cost him much to pretend to be civilised about it.
    As she toasted the bread under the grill of the old cooker, she heard the engine of the jeep catch and then start running smoothly. It stopped and started again a couple of times without a