Gagged & Bound Read Online Free Page A
fantastic. Now that the two of them have decided that swimming is their greatest pleasure, it would—’
‘What’s Steve got you working on now?’ said Antony quickly. He’d taken a dislike to hearing Trish talk about her partner.
‘Apart from Clotwell v. Markham, which won’t come to court until the autumn, nothing very much. My most immediate brief is a dreary contract case involving a garage and a car-leasing company. So far I can’t see any particular problems – or excitements.’
‘I’m glad to hear Bee and I aren’t dragging you away from anything too thrilling.’
Chapter 2
Monday and Tuesday 12 and 13 March
‘Swmg w G. CUL8er. D’
Trish decoded the text message without difficulty. David had persuaded George to meet him at their favourite swimming pool in an expensive gym in Farringdon after he’d finished his prep, which meant she had no reason to rush home.
When he’d decided at the beginning of term that he was old enough to do without an escort to and from school, Trish had protested, but she hadn’t got anywhere. Sounding almost as reasonable and fatherly as George, David had said that it was really absurd for her to chase round trying to find a stand-in to collect him from school whenever she had a conference at going-home time or was likely to be stuck in court miles away. In any case, there wasn’t much point her interrupting her work just so she could come home to watch him doing his.
‘I wasn’t being neurotic,’ she said aloud to the empty room as she clicked off her phone, remembering the old battles. ‘Just responsible.’
David had had a terrifying childhood. When he was no more than a toddler in a buggy, he and his mother had seen a man killed. The two of them had been taken into the witness-protection scheme and moved all over London. Even that hadn’t saved his mother, and David had learned that it was never safe to trust anyone.
Trish had sometimes despaired of helping him, but he’d gained a lot of confidence recently. He had a new best friend at school, a quiet, day-dreaming boy called Julian, who needed a lot of looking after. David seemed to like that, which she could understand, and he’d lost his fear of letting anyone see what he really felt. Not even her greatest triumph in court had given her as much pleasure as watching him relax.
Knowing he was safe in the pool with George, she decided to stay on in chambers to skim through Beatrice Bowman’s book. It was only ninety-six pages and printed in fairly large type, so it shouldn’t take long. She tilted her chair back and swung her feet up on the desk to read in comfort.
The story behind Jeremy Marton’s crime was simple enough. He had gone to West Africa to work with Voluntary Service Overseas between school and university, where he was to study medical biochemistry. His VSO responsibilities included teaching very young pupils to read.
As an only child himself, he’d always wanted to be part of a big gang of siblings, and he soon found in the affection of the village children something of the warmth and fun he felt he’d missed. He became friends with several of their families and admired the way they dealt with a poverty he would have found unendurable. The number of children who died at birth or in their first few months shocked him into wondering whether he ought to make his life there, doing whatever he could to help.
Trish could see why Beatrice had defended him so vigorously. Despite the photograph on the jacket, she had thought of him as a grown man, not a boy just out of school. He couldn’t have been much more than eighteen, only six years older than David, when he went to Africa. She read on.
After a while, he noticed several of the children developing mysterious ailments. The trouble was insidious, sometimes starting with a kind of mental sluggishness. At first he was irritated, assuming they were slacking, then he noticed several
other symptoms, often different in each child, as they
‘What’s Steve got you working on now?’ said Antony quickly. He’d taken a dislike to hearing Trish talk about her partner.
‘Apart from Clotwell v. Markham, which won’t come to court until the autumn, nothing very much. My most immediate brief is a dreary contract case involving a garage and a car-leasing company. So far I can’t see any particular problems – or excitements.’
‘I’m glad to hear Bee and I aren’t dragging you away from anything too thrilling.’
Chapter 2
Monday and Tuesday 12 and 13 March
‘Swmg w G. CUL8er. D’
Trish decoded the text message without difficulty. David had persuaded George to meet him at their favourite swimming pool in an expensive gym in Farringdon after he’d finished his prep, which meant she had no reason to rush home.
When he’d decided at the beginning of term that he was old enough to do without an escort to and from school, Trish had protested, but she hadn’t got anywhere. Sounding almost as reasonable and fatherly as George, David had said that it was really absurd for her to chase round trying to find a stand-in to collect him from school whenever she had a conference at going-home time or was likely to be stuck in court miles away. In any case, there wasn’t much point her interrupting her work just so she could come home to watch him doing his.
‘I wasn’t being neurotic,’ she said aloud to the empty room as she clicked off her phone, remembering the old battles. ‘Just responsible.’
David had had a terrifying childhood. When he was no more than a toddler in a buggy, he and his mother had seen a man killed. The two of them had been taken into the witness-protection scheme and moved all over London. Even that hadn’t saved his mother, and David had learned that it was never safe to trust anyone.
Trish had sometimes despaired of helping him, but he’d gained a lot of confidence recently. He had a new best friend at school, a quiet, day-dreaming boy called Julian, who needed a lot of looking after. David seemed to like that, which she could understand, and he’d lost his fear of letting anyone see what he really felt. Not even her greatest triumph in court had given her as much pleasure as watching him relax.
Knowing he was safe in the pool with George, she decided to stay on in chambers to skim through Beatrice Bowman’s book. It was only ninety-six pages and printed in fairly large type, so it shouldn’t take long. She tilted her chair back and swung her feet up on the desk to read in comfort.
The story behind Jeremy Marton’s crime was simple enough. He had gone to West Africa to work with Voluntary Service Overseas between school and university, where he was to study medical biochemistry. His VSO responsibilities included teaching very young pupils to read.
As an only child himself, he’d always wanted to be part of a big gang of siblings, and he soon found in the affection of the village children something of the warmth and fun he felt he’d missed. He became friends with several of their families and admired the way they dealt with a poverty he would have found unendurable. The number of children who died at birth or in their first few months shocked him into wondering whether he ought to make his life there, doing whatever he could to help.
Trish could see why Beatrice had defended him so vigorously. Despite the photograph on the jacket, she had thought of him as a grown man, not a boy just out of school. He couldn’t have been much more than eighteen, only six years older than David, when he went to Africa. She read on.
After a while, he noticed several of the children developing mysterious ailments. The trouble was insidious, sometimes starting with a kind of mental sluggishness. At first he was irritated, assuming they were slacking, then he noticed several
other symptoms, often different in each child, as they
Readers choose
Carol Shields
Carolyn Jewel
Earlene Fowler
Kenneth Robeson, Lester Dent, Will Murray
Richard Poche
Barbara Freethy
Henry Carver
Tim Richards
Jean Plaidy
Lyndsay Faye