The Unburied Past Read Online Free Page B

at the window, ‘this is now turning into.’
    So they drove through the wet countryside where cows stood passively with bent heads and summer foliage drooped under the weight of rain, and once in the town were able, as Emma had hoped, to locate an indoor play area, where the children spent the morning taking turns on the swings, slides and sandpits.
    By the time they emerged after lunch the rain had stopped and a shaft of sunlight was pointing a finger at the Norman castle on the hill above the town.
    â€˜Let’s go up and have a look at it,’ Mark suggested. ‘It’s mentioned in all the guide books.’
    â€˜Provided you’ll push the buggy up the hill,’ Emma stipulated.
    It was a steeper climb than they’d anticipated, but from the summit there was a spectacular view not only of the town but of miles of the surrounding hills and countryside. Little remained of the castle itself other than groups of weathered stone arches and walls, jagged against the purple storm clouds.
    â€˜We can read up on its history when we get back to the cottage,’ Mark said.
    The sunshine stayed with them during the drive back, and they reached the cottage just after four.
    â€˜Would you mind if I played truant for an hour or so?’ Mark asked diffidently. ‘I’ve only about a dozen shots left on this film and I’d like to start out with a new one tomorrow, added to which I haven’t any of Lake Belvedere under these weather conditions.’
    â€˜You go,’ Emma said. ‘I’m putting the kids to bed early anyway; they’re both exhausted after all that playing, and once they’re down I’ll take the opportunity to write some postcards; the family will be wondering how we’re getting on.’
    Halfway through the holiday, Mark reflected, settling down to the fifteen-minute drive; this time next week they’d be back home, and then it would be only a couple of weeks till Lynne and Harry left. And suddenly, unwillingly, he remembered his presentiment after Claire’s party, that their departure heralded a more significant ending. He shook his head impatiently, turning on the radio, but his sense of unease persisted, not helped by the lowering sky. There was more rain on the way.
    There were only a couple of cars in the usually busy parking place. The uncertain weather must have deterred visitors. So much the better for some atmospheric shots.
    Having locked the car Mark paused, considering where to position himself. The lake was surrounded by a semicircle of hills rising quite steeply from its banks. On earlier visits the presence of the children and the buggy had limited them to ground level, but now he had the chance to search out a new angle – one that, from a height, would give an extended view of the lake.
    The nearest hill was some two hundred yards from the car park, and he saw that from this side a path offered a more manageable approach to its summit. Not that he’d either the time or inclination to scale it, but he recalled seeing people standing on a wide shelf some third of the way up, which would suit him admirably.
    Slipping the strap of the camera round his neck, he picked up his canvas bag and set off across the muddy grass. Soon he was climbing steadily, considering and rejecting possible shots as he went. From the height of the ledge, a series of exposures should give a panorama of the entire lake, putting into perspective the more localized views he’d already taken.
    By the time he reached it, out of breath and with aching legs, he was promising himself a brief rest and a drink from his water bottle before starting work. But as he emerged on to the shelf, all thoughts of a rest vanished.
    Some distance below him three men were standing at the edge of the lake, and it was clear a heated argument was in progress. A small boat was bobbing at the edge of the water and Mark noticed a fishing line propped against a rock.