The Grieving Stones Read Online Free

proper and heading deep into the countryside. The drizzle had stopped and the sun was doing its best to break through the clouds. She could almost pretend that everything was fine with the world.
    It never failed to impress Alice that she lived in a city that gave her access to open countryside within the space of only a few minutes’ drive. She realised that England was a relatively small island, and even London wasn’t big compared to some of the American cities she’d visited during holidays abroad, but she still felt the same way whenever she headed out of the urban sprawl and into the sticks.
    “So,” said Moira, her singing halted for the time being and the radio turned low. “Are you going to tell us about this house?”
    Clive seemed more relaxed now they were on the open road. His shoulders were not so tense and he’d cracked open the side window to let in some air. “I suppose I should really tell you where it is we’re going, shouldn’t I? I mean, it’s only fair.”
    He was teasing. He liked to tease. Alice liked it, too, especially when the teasing was aimed at her. This realisation both alarmed and amused her; perhaps, like Moira, she also harboured a secret lust for their counsellor.
    “The house belongs to an old friend of mine, someone I’ve known for many years. We studied together at Uni and she inherited the place from a great uncle, or something. I’m not sure exactly why the house came to her rather than someone else in the family, but it did.” He changed gear, shifting up into fifth as the road opened out, seemingly clear of traffic.
    Alice leaned forward in her seat, the seatbelt tightening across her breasts. “Have you held these sessions there before?”
    Clive shook his head. “No. I usually change the venue of these weekend sessions, just to shake things up. This is the first time I’ve taken anyone out to Grief House.”
    “What’s that?” Steve looked up from his iPad. “What a weird name for a house.”
    Clive laughed softly. “Yes, I suppose it is. That isn’t its real name, of course, just something the locals like to call it. They named it after the standing stones nearby.”
    Steve’s attention drifted back to his iPad. Alice wondered if he might be about to Google the area, but when she glanced across she saw that he was playing a gaudy game involving balloons.
    “The real name of the place is Staple House, after the sisters who lived there in the 1600s. That’s what it says on the deeds, anyway, according to my friend.”
    Alice wondered who this “friend” was. Was it one of Clive’s old flames? A recent paramour? She found herself wondering what he was like in bed. Was he a considerate lover?
    “Yes,” said Clive, startling her. Not for the first time, she thought he might have been reading her mind, then she realised that he was answering a question of Moira’s that Alice had failed to register.
    “Oh, that’ll be lovely!” Moira was getting over-excited again. She was like an eager puppy, keen to please its master.
    “I have a long walk planned, and we can take in the sights – including the standing stones. They’re called The Grieving Stones. Nobody knows why. It’s just what they’ve always been called. Hence the name, Grief House…obviously.”
    Just then, Clive swerved the steering wheel, dragging the car to the left. Alice grabbed hold of the seat in front and tried to see what was going on. A low, dark shape streaked across the front of the van, and then there was an impact. The brakes screeched like frightened birds, Clive called out something she couldn’t understand, and Moira started screaming. The van skidded towards a drainage ditch running along the side of the road, but Clive managed to slow and turn the vehicle before its wheels went into the deep trough.
    “Shit!” His knuckles were white as he clutched the wheel tightly, trying to control the skid. The van stopped. “What the fuck was that?” His voice boomed in the