Mr. Chartwell Read Online Free

top-roosting books, then a worse one-handed climb down. Understated chandeliers with glass shades were suspended from brass chains. Two lead-latticed windows at the far end of the room gazed out on a Thames lit cardboard-brown in the sun.
    The library was laid out like a gallery in a Tudor house. Along corridor ran through the centre of each room. Behind Esther an arched wooden doorway led to other, more peopled areas of the library—reading rooms C and D, the Reference Room and Oriel Room, room A ahead. Sounds of life drifted towards her.
    That deserted haven, room B. Esther was hunched over her desk, the surface stacked with books, needing to concentrate. Thoughts of Mr. Chartwell and his visit were a wound which wanted its bandages quietly lifted to assess, stomach in flight, what lay underneath. An abomination, an abominable thing. Esther sat there dissecting the details.
    The noise of Beth Oliver shoving some books aside with her heavy hip as she sat on the desk startled Esther.
    Beth’s face was attractive and comfortable, with a smile full of natural sugars. She had a relaxed sensuality which expressed itself in an appetite for everything, including the carrot she was now admiring between bites. Trapping her wavy, bobbed hair behind an ear made no difference, the hair breaking free. Using the tip of the carrot to push it ended in hair stuck to the carrot.
    “Hi, Esther, what are you doing?”
    “Oh, nothing much, just my job or something,” Esther said in the sterile voice she used when she didn’t want to talk.
    “Ha, yeah,” said Beth, flicking distractedly through a book on top of the pile. It was titled
Roman Architecture in the West Midlands of England
. She let the pages run over her fingers. “So come on. Tell me.”
    Beth bumped herself further onto the table, causing a column of books to slide onto Esther’s lap. Esther caught the avalanche without comment and heaped it back. “Tell you what?”
    “Tell me all about the incarnation of your tiny boxy studyinto a luxury bedroom. That’s why I gave you that horrible old bed, isn’t it? So you could rent it to some unsuspecting victim.”
    “The bed’s not so bad with some new sheets on it.” Esther smiled at her. “As long as you don’t sit on it or lie on it, it looks quite nice.”
    “It looks quite nice? Those must be some miraculous sheets. Didn’t you say someone came to look at the room this morning?”
    Esther picked up a pen and toyed with it. “Someone did.”
    “Exciting! And when is this unlucky lodger moving in?”
    The pen lid was chewed and came away in her mouth. Esther spoke with the lid between her teeth. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m not sure yet.”
    But Beth had been distracted, grinning and doing something with her hands. Esther bent to see, leaning in her chair. The legs lifted as she craned round the doorway. It was the head of the library, John Dennis-John, hammering a typewriter in his characteristic warrior way at a desk in reception. Beth mimicked him, pretending to type with punching fists on a book. Dennis-John looked up with a snap, his instincts sonic. Esther ducked, her chair thumping down. Caught in his crossfire, Beth made an act of straightening her skirt. A good act, Esther thought, as she watched Beth fight off a smile.
    A snort of laughter from Esther, a match-flare of amusement which died instantly.
    Beth made a quick check on Dennis-John, stretching her neck. She waited for his typing to resume. She turned and studied Esther.
    “Es?” Beth locked an elbow, watching her. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine, yep. Just a bit tired.” It wasn’t convincing.
    Beth’s posture developed a sarcastic accent. “Don’t tell me that, it won’t wash because I know you too well, Hammerhans. I know when you’re hiding something from me.”
    “I’m really busy, that’s all.”
    “Busy with what?” Beth tossed the books about, hunting for a theme. “With this?” The area outside suddenly bustled with