The Mysterious Affair at Castaway House Read Online Free

and grasped it in both of his. ‘Tickled to death you decided to come. Can’t remember a thing about the funeral, of course. Drunk as a fox that day. Bit emotional, you know, Mother finally popping her clogs and all that. Father reminded me afterwards that I’d invited you to Castaway for the summer.’
    ‘Oh.’ I swallowed. ‘I d-do hope that’s all right.’
    ‘It’s wonderful. Can’t imagine anything better.’ He took the case from me and batted away my protests. ‘My fault entirely. Meant for you to be met at the station with the motor car, but, y’know, we don’t stand on ceremony here. This is a modern house, Robert, you’ll see. I’ll even carry my cousin’s luggage for him.’ He gestured with the case and then grimaced at the weight of it.
    ‘It’s awfully kind of you,’ I said, panting, as I followed him up the hill, my lungs protesting slightly. I hoped that over the summer they would improve.
    ‘Least I could do. Had no idea you’d been at death’s door. What was it, chest trouble?’ He patted his own. ‘Heard you had to put off university for a year.’
    ‘Yes. I’m … hoping to go up … this autumn.’
    ‘Good. I suppose you know I was sent down fromBrasenose. But we don’t talk about that, ha ha. Anyway, you’re off to – where is it, Magdalen? Glad Grandfather put a little aside for you. Least the old miser could do. By the way, Clara’s at home.’
    This non sequitur threw me somewhat. ‘Clara?’
    ‘My wife,’ he said. ‘The new Mrs Bray.’
    He spoke in such a strange way I had no idea what he really meant by that. ‘I don’t believe I met her at the funeral,’ I said.
    ‘She didn’t come,’ he said shortly. ‘Still, she’s happy enough now Mother’s left me Castaway.’
    The effort of the climb and the strength of the sun were combining to form prickles of sweat at the back of my neck. I shrugged off my jacket and held it over my arm. All I knew about Castaway House was that it had been the family’s summer home; while my aunt had been alive, none of the Carver branch had ever been invited down.
    ‘You still have the flat in London?’ I asked him, remembering rumours of Alec’s wild years there.
    ‘Gave it up.’ Again, there was that odd twist to his voice. ‘Castaway’s the main residence now. One can’t gad about having flats when one’s respectable, you know.’
    I supposed he meant that marriage had lent him that respectability, although I was not entirely sure why. They had wed pretty much in secret, and when the news had emerged it had caused a fair commotion. According to the family grapevine, his new wife had been a minor actress on the London stage, appearing in shoddy musicals and, before that, those revues where, apparently, girls stood in a line, naked or near enough. Mother, whose ownmarriage had caused its fair share of commotion in its time, took great relish in chewing over the details, especially in relation to her brother, my uncle Edward.
    ‘He’s such a terrible snob,’ she had said, her voice salty with pleasure. ‘Viviane too, of course. They thought
you
were beyond the pale. Heaven knows what they must be making of the whole thing.’
    The
you
in question was my father, sitting in his chair in the parlour with his pipe clamped between his teeth. He simply nodded, and I could tell he wasn’t listening. I, on the other hand, was imagining an apparition of my cousin’s mysterious new wife, naked, on the London stage, and was forced to concentrate very hard on this week’s copy of
Bystander
in my lap in order to distract myself.
    Naturally, I was intrigued to meet her, although Alec’s distinct lack of enthusiasm curtailed my excitement a little. If she had no connections and no money of her own, I thought, then she must be very beautiful to have snared him.
    Alec had been the golden-haired wonder of my childhood: five years older and unaccountably sophisticated. As a youth, it had never occurred to me to question the