Pets on Parade (Prospect House 2) Read Online Free Page A

I’d finished. ‘She obviously fancies you.’
    ‘Who does?’ We both turned, startled, as Lucy, striding into reception, asked the question in a rather brittle voice.
    ‘Oh, hi,’ I said, feeling guilty for no real reason, other than the fact that, for the past few weeks, I’d been treading rather carefully, with Lucy’s mood swings making her liable to flare up at the slightest thing. I didn’t dare to try lighting her touchpaper for fear she’d go off like a rocket.
    ‘One of Paul’s clients,’ said Beryl. ‘She’s taken a shine to him.’
    Beryl, Beryl, Beryl … that’s not helping, I thought.
    ‘Good for her,’ snorted Lucy, throwing me a glance that conjured up a barrage of barbed arrows winging my way, each with my name on it, destined to score a direct hit. ‘I’m working the late shift tonight,’ she added gruffly, addressing me. ‘So I’ll stay over upstairs. Just make sure the animals are fed.’
    The animals she was referring to were the menagerie of waifs and strays we had accumulated over the past six months we’d been living together in the practice cottage over the Downs in Ashton. Among them, Nelson the deaf little terrier; Queenie, and two other cats; and, of course, Gertie, the goose given to me to fatten up for Christmas, but who had become a family pet instead. I wasn’t so sure ‘family’ was the appropriate word to use in the current circumstances, with Lucy and me circling round each other on emotional tenterhooks. How long that was going to continue was anyone’s guess. Maybe I needed the likes of Madam Mountjoy to read our tea leaves. Or palms. Or whatever.
    ‘She’s in a bit of a mood, isn’t she?’ said Beryl, watching Lucy flounce out. ‘Wonder what’s got into her?’
    I wondered, too. It certainly hadn’t been me for quite a while.

BERYL’S BEAU JANGLE
     
     
    ‘ D o you think you’ll get one?’ queried Beryl, ten days into February, scratching the prominent mole she had under her chin.
    One what? I wondered. A punch on the jaw from Lucy? Things were no better with her. Still bumpy. Whatever was bugging her had yet to be exorcised. Madam Mountjoy’s intervention was still a possibility.
    Beryl studied her scarlet talons briefly and then looked up at me. ‘I was thinking of a St Valentine’s Day card. You know … from that medium.’
    ‘Oh, come off it, Beryl. You’re just winding me up.’
    ‘Well, you never know. You’re certainly not going to get one from Lucy, that’s for sure.’ Beryl finished scrutinising her nails and proceeded to fish in her handbag for her packet of cigarettes, ready for her back-door smoke. We were in the office at the time, having our coffee break. It was a small room, five steps down from the reception area, and had a window that overlooked the parking area in front of Prospect House. That was an advantage for Beryl, since, whenever she took a break, she could keep an eye – her one eye – on any cars coming in and, by leaving the office door open, keep an ear open for any clients who might have sneaked in unseen via the path along the side of the property; a path which gave access from the Green, a remnant of what had been the village green before Westcott-on-Sea expanded as a retirement town in the mid-Fifties.
    I knew she was right about Lucy, although I was reluctant to admit it; and I was certainly not prepared to discuss it in any detail. ‘What about you then?’ I asked, determined to change the subject.
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Yes, you. I’m sure there’s bound to be a secret admirer amongst all our clients.’
    Despite the thick layer of powder clinging to Beryl’s cheeks, I could see them begin to redden, a flush creeping up from her scrawny neck. ‘Now who’s doing the winding up?’ she muttered, her lips disappearing in her mouth as she absent-mindedly fingered her mole again. Then she added, ‘I have had my share in the past, you know.’
    I didn’t know and was curious to find out. All I did know was