Larkrigg Fell Read Online Free Page A

in quite that way.
    ‘So you got a handout from Meg,’ Sarah was saying.
    ‘True,’ Tessa frankly agreed. ‘I’m one of her lame ducks. Your long suffering grandmother is forever rushed off her feet yet still finds it in her heart to take me under her wing. I was grateful since hubby pretty well cleaned me out.’
    ‘How very fortunate for you.’
    ‘Yes,’ Tessa readily agreed, soberly meeting Sarah’s gaze. ‘It is.’ James stood up, a red ring round his small plump bottom. ‘Wee wee,’ he announced, showing two teeth as he grinned with pleasure. Tessa looked in the plastic potty and squealed with delight. There then followed such a celebration that soon all three girls and baby joined in with great hilarity and the tension in the room slackened. The tea was quite forgotten while a clean nappy was fitted and the beaming James firmly strapped into his high chair.
    ‘Shall I pour?’ Beth offered, when they’d got their giggles under control and the potty had been rinsed in the cloakroom.
    ‘Sorry, yes. If you don’t mind.’ Tessa started to mix a glutinous mess that might have been porridge had it not been bright orange. Tessa caught her eye and laughed. ‘Orange and apricot pudding. His favourite.’
    Beth handed round the cups then set about clearing the stack of dishes in the sink.
    ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Tessa half-heartedly protested.
    ‘I want to. I like to help. Sarah can dry.’ Beth cast her sister a glance which was steadfastly ignored while Tessa spooned food into the baby’s mouth.
    ‘Is Meg keen on gardening?’ Sarah coolly enquired, staring at a few withered brown leaves from a tradescantia that littered the carpet.
    ‘Hates it. No time, she says. She’s usually with her blessed sheep, or at some farming or local event or other, Tam along with her. They’re very busy people’ .
    ‘And what do you do, besides not wash up?’
    Tessa grinned good-naturedly as she scooped more glutinous pudding into the baby’s mouth. ‘When I’m not with this tyke here, you’ll find me in an old shed I dare to call a studio, attempting to paint pictures, or do sculptures, or whatever my latest fad happens to be.’
    ‘How terribly artistic of you. No other form of employment?’ The two girls’ eyes met and held.
    ‘Not at the moment,’ Tessa agreed. ‘No other visible means of support.’
    ‘How fortuitous that Meg is so generous then.’
    ‘You must be awfully clever,’ Beth butted in, hastening to soothe the bristling atmosphere, and Tessa laughed.
    ‘Don’t ever say that. I’m not clever at all. One of life’s dabblers, that’s me.’
    ‘Oh, I’d love to be able to draw.’
    ‘Drawing is only a part of it. It’s paint that’s the tricky medium. I love pastels myself.’
    As the two chatted on about art and pottery, Sarah set aside the cup with its tea that tasted of perfume and looked about her with open distaste. She’d never seen a room quite as messy as this one. Piles of dirty crocks, a tiled floor smeared with remnants of mud, and walls which probably hadn’t seen a lick of paint in a decade. Undoubtedly some might say it exuded comfort with its bunches of drying herbs, pretty dresser, and winking copperware in the wide inglenook. But one chair was covered in an old sheepskin rug and another seemed full of dog hairs. She turned up her nose and took care where she sat.
    ‘Are these your efforts?’ A bright abstract on the wall, a pencil drawing of a naked man and a bronze sculpture of an owl propping open a door which presumably led into the living room.
    ‘Do you approve?’
    ‘I know nothing of art.’ Sarah turned away, her body language clearly adding that she had no wish to learn, and pointedly studied the most notable feature of the room. One wall crowded with photographs of sheep and dogs, rosettes and certificates that filled every inch of space.
    ‘You seem to have landed on your feet here.’ There was an open challenge in the blunt statement