Urban Myth Read Online Free

a microwave and a smart breakfast bar with stools facing French windows that overlooked the back garden. There was a large American-style refrigerator with a note pinned to the door by a magnet in the shape of a New Forest pony.
    Nicole came up behind me and we both read it.
    Welcome to King’s Manor. I’ve stocked up the fridge, freezer and cupboards with all the things you asked for. I’ve also added some wine, chocolates and other goodies with my compliments. On the table is a guest information folder with facts about the house and the area and various brochures. I’m afraid the telephone landline has still not been fixed, but I’m told it will be in the next day or two. One other thing – the garage is not available to guests as it’s where my personal belongings are stored during lets. If you have any problems please don’t hesitate to call me. I do hope you have a great time
. It was signed Nathan Slade.
    ‘He sounds like a nice man,’ Nicole said.
    I opened the refrigerator and was taken aback by the amount of stuff in there.
    There were the things we had ordered and would be paying for, including bread, butter, cold meats, milk and various soft drinks. But there were also six bottles of white wine, a bottle of champagne and several boxes of chocolates. The freezer compartment was packed with pizzas, bacon, fries and fish, none of which we had asked for. When we checked the cupboards we found tins of soup, beans and a jar of coffee.
    ‘I can’t believe he’s been so generous,’ I said. ‘This lot must have cost him a small fortune.’
    There was a ring folder on the table. I picked it up and opened it. It contained a selection of brochures featuring various locations in the forest and one promotional leaflet on King’s Manor dated 2010. It was described on the front as a ‘stunning six-bedroom guest house with bed and breakfast accommodation and fantastic views over the moors.’
    Nicole looked over my shoulder and said, ‘So it used to be a B&B. How marvellous that we’ve got it all to ourselves.’
    ‘Seems to have lost a bedroom in recent years,’ I said. ‘According to the website description there are only five.’
    ‘Well thankfully we don’t need more than four,’ smiled Nicole.
    The folder also contained laminated sheets of type-written notes on the history of the area and the house itself. It was built in 1895 by a man called Colin Maddox. There were two sepia photos of the house dated 1910. In the first, a man in a cloth cap was pouring coal into the cellar through a chute set in the ground up against the back wall. In another, a large plump woman in a black dress was standing in front of the house posing awkwardly for the camera. The caption beneath it read:
Elizabeth Maddox, widow of the original owner
.
    ‘She looks like a tough old gal,’ Nicole said. ‘Life must have been hard in those days. Not like now.’
    ‘It’s amazing,’ I said. ‘The outside of the house seems hardly to have changed in all this time.’
    ‘They sure knew how to build them to last in Victorian times,’ Nicole said. Then she put her arms around me, pulled me close and gave me a gentle kiss on the mouth.
    ‘That’s for being so thoughtful,’ she said. ‘I know this is going to be the best birthday present ever.’
    The kids chose that moment to come into the kitchen, having explored the other rooms on the ground floor.
    ‘Jesus, guys,’ Tina said, pulling a face. ‘Can’t you do that stuff in the privacy of your own bedroom?’
    I laughed. ‘Talking of bedrooms, this house has no less than five, so why don’t you two go upstairs and stake your claims.’
    ‘But steer clear of the master bedroom,’ Nicole put in. ‘That’s ours.’
    Nicole led me by the hand through the other rooms on the ground floor, beginning with the huge, cosy living room with French windows leading to the garden. There was a black leather sofa, coffee table and two comfy armchairs positioned in front of a