In the Falling Snow Read Online Free Page A

the counter. When she returned to the draughty table her mother had calmed down somewhat, and she appeared to be eager to talk. ‘It’s your father,’ she began. ‘He needs to see you and find a way for you two to make up. He won’t admit anything, but you know he’s always been a stubborn so-and-so.’ Her mother picked up the tea and blew on it, then immediately placed it back on the saucer. ‘Darling, I really don’t know what else to do about it. I suppose I’m begging you.’
    That evening, Annabelle arrived back home at just after eight o’clock. She had left Keith a message on the answerphone explaining that the agency had asked her to attend the dress rehearsal of a play that she had read and recommended, and which was opening in Watford later in the week. She had let him know that there was food in the fridge and she would see him in the early evening. He was sitting at the kitchen table reading the review section of the paper, and he looked up at her as she took off her coat and draped it over the back of a chair. He noticed that small threads of silver were now embroidered into her bob of brown hair, and he anticipated that at some point they would have to sit down for the ‘to go grey or not to go grey’ discussion.
    ‘You look knackered,’ he said. He put down the paper and stood up. ‘Shall I get you a coffee?’
    ‘That would be great.’ Annabelle didn’t meet his eyes as she pulled out a wooden kitchen chair and sat down at the table.
    ‘How was the play? Presumably you did the right thing recommending it?’
    ‘It was all right. Not bad at all. I think it will come into town.’
    ‘Which masterpiece was it?’ He opened the cupboard which held the various jars of coffee and boxes of tea. ‘What do you want, instant?’
    Annabelle nodded. ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Well, what play was it?’
    ‘Look Keith, I didn’t go to a play.’
    He spooned the granules into a cup and focused his full attention on the task at hand. The water in the kettle started to make a slow, steamy gurgle, and as the mist began to rise the light from the halogen fixtures passed through the vaporous cloud and created a strangely ethereal pattern on the granite counter top.
    ‘I went to see my father.’
    He turned to look at her. ‘I see. Why did you lie to me?’
    ‘I don’t know. I think I was just a bit scared.’
    ‘Of me?’
    ‘I don’t know, Keith. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I shouldn’t have done it.’
    ‘You shouldn’t have lied, or you shouldn’t have gone to see your father? Which is it?’
    ‘I don’t know, I’m confused. Both, I suppose.’
    ‘So how long has this been going on?’
    ‘How long has what been going on?’
    ‘Don’t play games with me, Annabelle. How long have you been saying you’re having lunch with your mother, but secretly traipsing off down there?’
    ‘Look Keith, I
have
been having lunch with my mother. This is the first time I’ve been down there since university. Jesus, I’ve not seen Dad since he took us out for that awful meal just before graduation.’ He pushed the cup, with the granules still in it, away from him so that it slid some distance along the counter. ‘Keith, don’t you believe me?’
    ‘You’ve lied to me once already, what’s to stop you lying again?’
    ‘Come on, you can’t be serious, Keith. I’m not a liar. Look at this situation, I can’t even keep it up for a few hours.’
    He picked up his jacket from the back of the kitchen chair that he had just vacated.
    ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘Out. I need to clear my head.’
    ‘Look, I know you’re upset and I don’t blame you, but I won’t be going back again. Not ever, if I have my way.’ He moved past her and walked towards the door. ‘Keith?’
    ‘Annabelle, that doesn’t help. I wish it did, but right now it doesn’t, okay.’
    He slammed the front door as he left, rattling the letterbox. Annabelle listened to the exhausted splutter of the boiling kettle as the switch