Mortal Ghost Read Online Free Page B

think.’
    He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
    Her mouth crimped slightly at one corner. Jesse had the feeling that she understood him very well indeed and was amused by his prevarication. Abruptly he changed the subject. ‘Where’s Sarah?’
    ‘ Gone to do some errands. She’ll be back soon.’
    ‘ I’ll wait to say goodbye.’
    ‘ Where will you go?’
    Again he shrugged. ‘I’m following the river.’
    ‘ For the summer?’
    ‘ More or less.’
    ‘ If you want to take a break—’ She hesitated and bit her lip. It was the first time he’d seen her at a loss, and suddenly he anticipated her next words.
    ‘No!’ he snapped. ‘I don’t need a job.’ Stupid, he thought. These people would pay well. A day or two couldn’t hurt, could it? A few pounds put aside, a couple of new books, maybe even a second-hand jumper and a warm anorak for the winter . . . Sarah’s face flashed across his mind. He pushed back his chair and stood, upsetting his glass of lemonade.
    ‘ Sorry,’ he said as he hurried to the sink.
    ‘ Not a job,’ Sarah’s mother said. ‘A refuge.’
    He stared at her, cloth in hand. He could hear the loud ticking of the ceramic clock on the wall.
    She quoted quietly:
     
    ‘ Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
    Sounds, and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.'
     
    ‘ You’ve been going through my things!’ Jesse said.
    Her smile was patient. ‘I wouldn’t do that. None of us would. The Tempest is one of my favourite plays. I acted in it at university.’
    ‘ Sorry,’ he muttered again, not entirely reassured. The very play that he was reading now, and some of his own favourite lines. Experience had taught him to mistrust coincidence.
    She rose and began to clear the table.
    ‘ Thanks for lunch,’ he said, moving to help her.
    ‘ Leave it,’ she said. ‘You and Sarah can do supper, if you’re still here.’
    She stopped, the jug in her hand.
    ‘ Think about it, Jesse. A few days of rest. I think you need it.’
    Her words splashing over the rocky bed of his mind, Jesse dug his hands into his pockets and walked out into the garden. Sarah’s mother watched him go, a troubled expression on her face.

Chapter 3
     
     
    Sarah had bought the dog a sturdy leather collar and lead. ‘He’s going to need a tag and chip, his shots. And what about his name?’
    ‘ I told you,’ Jesse said. ‘It’s not my dog.’
    ‘ He is now,’ she said. ‘What do you want to call him?’
    Jesse shrugged. There wasn’t much point thinking up a name unless Sarah’s family would be willing to adopt a stray.
    ‘ How about Anubis? We did Egyptian mythology last year in school.’
    No way, thought Jesse. Even if he named the animal—temporarily, mind you—it would be Harry or Jinx . Simple, ordinary, doggy.
    The dog tugged on the lead, anxious to keep moving. They’d walked down the hill from Sarah’s house and were now in another part of the city. The townhouses were neat, upmarket, with little front gardens, geranium-filled window boxes displayed like medals on a war hero’s chest, and brightly painted doors and window frames.
    Sarah indicated a narrow lane almost hidden between two brick dwellings. ‘Come on, I want to show you something.’
    She led him along the cobbled way towards a small stone chapel which had been converted into a residence and workshop. A stone bench curved round the base of a towering chestnut tree. Mounted on the scrolls of the wrought iron gate was an exquisitely hand-lettered sign: Sundials , it said. They stopped and leaned on the fence while Jesse studied the pieces, each bathed in the astringent green light. Once again he could smell the flush of lavender on Sarah’s skin.
    ‘ Brilliant, aren’t they?’ Sarah asked.
    ‘ They’re wonderful,’ Jesse said. ‘Who makes them?’
    ‘ A friend of my mother’s. She’s not here at the moment, or we could say hello.’
    Jesse pointed to a gilded greenslate sundial