Mr. Chartwell Read Online Free Page A

bodies, a group of library clerks chattering as they entered from the three-mile maze of corridors in Westminster Palace. The gentle swell of conversation was punctuated by a shot of laughter, the plastic note of Sellotape being stretched and torn from its holder. A phone rang and was answered. Beth’s thumb tapped across the books and chose one for inspection. She lifted it by the cover, the pages hanging. “
Saints of Ireland, England, Scotland, and Wales
 … what is this, Esther?”
    “I’ve got to type up some notes for the prime minister,” Esther lied, making notes, printing tiny letters in a notebook. “He needs me to do some research.”
    “Notes for Douglas-Home on saints? A very likely story.” Beth let the book fall. “Nope,” she said, “I think I recognise that secret look. Ah yes, I know what’s going on here.… Esther, have you met someone?”
    Esther clucked her tongue.
    “Have you been on a date?” Beth said this with joyous hope, excited by her own imagination, seeing Esther in a restaurant, candles and two spoons with dessert.
    “Nothing like that, unfortunately,” answered Esther. “It’s quite hard to explain exactly how unlike that …”
    “Ladies and gentlemen of the
jury,
” Beth said with saucy solemnity, addressing an invisible crowd, “I present you with our coy exhibit, a dear friend who stands in contempt of the court if she fails to indulge the judge with every detail of her date.”
    “Stop it, there is no date.” Her voice was unintentionally cold.
    Puzzled at the reaction, Beth pulled away. A quality in Esther echoed, too faint to decipher. What? No, it faded, Beth mistaken.
    “I’m only playing around, Es.”
    Esther spoke to the notebook. “I don’t want to play.”
    Beth started a friendly argument and was stopped. “ ‘There is no date and I don’t want to play, Beth. Let’s just change the subject.’
    “Okay …” Beth rolled her chin in apology. “I’m sorry. For a second I thought you might have.” A hand lifted in a justifying flip, landing flat against the table. “Well, it’s not so ridiculous, is it? You’re not
too
hideous, Es.”
    Down among the books, Esther didn’t respond, carrying on with her notes. A quick and horrible feeling in the guts acknowledged that she was being unfair to Beth. And her mood couldn’t entirely be blamed on Mr. Chartwell. There was another reason, a darker, emptier one that ate through the calendar. A countdown of four days. Esther chastised herself for feeling disappointed that Beth hadn’t remembered, knowing she would soon. And she knew with a complicated knot in her chest that she would almost rather Beth didn’t.
    Beth curved her mouth, the sad bulldog, trying for a laugh and failing. “I’m only joking.” Esther’s attitude was a mystery. She spoke to the top of Esther’s head. “Come on, Es, I’m only joking. Don’t get in a twist.”
    Esther blew up her bangs. “It’s not funny, Beth. You know how I feel.”
    “Ksssss.”
Beth made a noise in air between her teeth. “I know, I know, I know.”
    “Well then,” said Esther. She dropped the volume as a woman and a tall man walked into room B, the woman’s high heels ticking across the floor. The man followed awkwardly. “Don’t joke about it.”
    Beth’s eyes nipped to monitor the couple. “I’m sorry. It’s just that …” She willed the clerks away. “… It’s just that it was such a long time ago. Michael was such a long time ago. I suppose I …” She reached over and moved Esther’s bangs to one side, styling them. Esther had a grace which made her striking, with a face whose beauty came in subtle ways. “You’re a pretty girl, Es. We only want you to be happy.”
    Beth was impossible to ignore. “We love you, you know. I do, me and Big Oliver love you.” Big Oliver was Beth’s husband, a kind and solid man.
    Esther looked at her. For countless hours, an arm round her shoulders, Beth had listened. And