The Owl Service Read Online Free Page B

Roger.
    â€œForget it,” said Gwyn. “I’d better go and butter up the old darling. Don’t worry, I can handle her all right. I’m going down the shop this morning, so I’ll buy her a packet of fags to keep her happy.”
    â€œShe looked wild,” said Alison.
    â€œDo you blame her?” said Gwyn. “And what’s a clip on the earhole among friends? You go and square your family, put them wise, get in first: just in case. I’ll calm Mam down, and then we’ll see to the loft. She’s touchy this morning because I’m not supposed to speak to Huw, and I must over this job.”
    â€œBut what happened then?” said Roger. “That plate was the one she took from Ali’s room yesterday, wasn’t it?”
    â€œI know,” said Gwyn. “Where are the others?”
    â€œI put them on the billiard table,” said Alison.
    â€œI’ll pick them up on my way back,” said Gwyn. “We’ll have a good look at them later.”
    â€œWho’s going to deal with which?” Alison said to Roger as they walked across the lawn.
    â€œWe’ll each tackle our own, I think, in this case,” said Roger.
    â€œMummy’s sunbathing on the terrace,” said Alison.
    â€œRight. Dad’s in the river somewhere, I expect, trying out his puncture repairs. Peculiar business, isn’t it? You know just before Nancy yelled – when you were letting off steam about her – a crack went right through that pebble-dash in the billiard-room. I saw it. It was behind you. Peculiar that. It’s the second since yesterday. Dad spotted one last night.”
    Gwyn walked slowly. The plate had been on the dresser in the kitchen: his mother had been in the larder: a difficult shot. Who could have done it? Huw was shovelling coke by the stables. Who would have done it?
    The smash in the billiard-room was like an explosion. Gwyn ran. The fragments of the plates lay on the floor. They had hit the wall where it was pebble-dashed, and the whole width of the mortar near the top was laced with cracks. Gwyn looked under the table and in the cupboards, but no one was hiding, and the animals were motionless in their glass.
    Very gently, and softly, trying to make no noise, Gwyn gathered up the pieces. The morning sun came through the skylights and warmed the oak beams of the roof. They gave off a sweet smell, the essence of their years, wood and corn and milk and all the uses of the room. A motorcycle went by along the road above the house, making the glass rattle.
    Gwyn heard something drop behind him, and he turned. A lump of pebble-dash had come off the wall, and another fell, and in their place on the wall two eyes were watching him.

C HAPTER 5
    â€œG wyn said he’d done it. I don’t think she believed him, but she had to shut up.”
    â€œGood,” said Clive. “His head’s screwed on.”
    â€œYes, Gwyn’s all right,” said Roger. “But I thought you’d better know, in case Nancy wants to make a row over it.”
    â€œToo true,” said Clive.
    â€œNone of us chucked the plate,” said Roger.
    â€œIt probably fell, and the old girl thought someone had buzzed her,” said Clive. “That seems to have fixed my puncture.” He lumbered out of the river. “Dry as a bone.”
    â€œHave you seen this, Dad?” said Roger. He was sitting on top of the upright slab. “This hole?”
    â€œOh? No.”
    â€œAny ideas how it was made?” said Roger. “It goes right through.”
    â€œSo it does. Machine tooled, I’d say. Lovely job. Seems a rum thing to do out here in the wilds.”
    â€œHave a squint from the other side, up towards the house.”
    Roger’s father put his hands on his knees and bent to look through the hole.
    â€œWell I never,” he said. “Fancy that.”
    â€œIt frames the top of the ridge, and the trees, doesn’t