Death on the Lake by Jo Allen (early reader books TXT) 📗

‘I’ll be in early,’ she called after him, watching as he strode down through the evening and the last pale light of the fleeing sun, and got a brief wave in reply.

It was barely nine o’clock. She turned back into the house and went through to the kitchen where Lisa was pottering about with the dishwasher. ‘I’ll help clear up.’

‘No, on you go. You know the rule. You cook, I clear up.’ Though it had been Jude who’d done the cooking, turning his hand to a speedy and tasty macaroni cheese. ‘Anyway, I’m listening to the football.’ To emphasise the point, Lisa turned the radio up.

Like Ashleigh’s ex-husband, Scott, Lisa was a Manchester United fan. Ashleigh frowned. This was the third time that day she’d thought of him. The first had been when her phone had pinged her through a notification she didn’t need, didn’t want and thought she’d turned off, alerting her that it was his birthday. Then there had been Jude’s remarks about Luke and his jealousy, the thought she knew they’d shared about how hard it was to leave real love behind. Now it was the triviality of a meaningless football commentary on the radio when all the winners and losers of the season were already decided and there was nothing left at stake.

Foolish things always reminded her of Scott. It must be because she’d loved him. But unlike Jude’s romance with Becca, Ashleigh’s relationship with Scott had ended at a time of her choosing, a conscious moment when she realised the effort of committing to him wasn’t worth the pain of his perpetual philandering, and that the charm and tenderness which she so adored in him would never only be for her. Over two years later she had her regrets, but they were never about ending it — only that she’d had no choice.

When she’d first arrived in Cumbria he’d tried to follow her but he’d been silent since then, other than a bunch of flowers by way of an apology. She’d bumped into him in a pub in Alderley Edge on a visit to her family, and they’d managed a civilised conversation. He’d been with a woman, of course, because he always was, and for the first time in years she’d parted from him without awkwardness. Maybe it was time to forgive and forget. She picked up the phone and hesitated before downgrading her magnanimity from a phone call to a text. Happy birthday. Have a good one. A. No kisses, though. It was never a good idea to offer him unnecessary encouragement.

Still carrying the phone, she ran upstairs. ‘I’m going to have a bath,’ she called down to Lisa, ‘and put my pyjamas on. I’ll be down in a minute.’ And she’d take a moment to read the cards, because the melancholy that came over her when she thought of what she’d walked away from always meant her common sense needed shoring up, and her decision required validation. She was in the mood for positive advice and knew exactly where she’d find it.

The phone rang in her hand and she looked down at it. There had been a time when she’d thought about blocking his number, but she’d never quite been able to bring herself to do it. ‘Scotty. Happy birthday. Are you having a good one?’

‘I thought you wouldn’t call.’ Sometimes there could be a trace of self-pity in his voice but though she listened carefully, today she could detect nothing but cheerfulness. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. But it’s great to hear from you.’

‘You, too.’ A slow tide of warmth crept over her. She hated unfinished business and if she couldn’t afford to have Scott as her lifetime partner, she still wanted him as a friend. Jude might have something to say about that, but he was in no position to preach. ‘How are you doing? Out for the evening?’

‘Just down in the Crown with some of the guys.’

They’d had a few evenings out together in the Crown. ‘I bet they’ve forgotten all about me.’

‘Never. We were talking about you earlier.’

‘All good, I hope.’ She laughed and sat down at the dressing table taking the tarot cards out of their slot in her top drawer and unwrapping the purple silk that bound them with her right hand.

‘Yeah, all of it. I saw you in the paper, talking about that girl who went missing. Found drowned, is that it?’

‘Yes.’ Scott’s curiosity was always superficial, and there was nothing about the case that was secret. It was safe to answer his questions. ‘Poor girl. Horrid.’

‘I don’t know how you cope with it. I couldn’t do your job, even if I could do hers. Watersports instructor, wasn’t she?’

She laughed again. It was a long time since she’d found two separate things to smile about in a conversation with Scott. He’d been a watersports instructor when they’d met, but the cold, grey waters of a Cheshire reservoir hadn’t sat easily with his sun-seeking nature, and he’d upgraded his qualifications and taken off to the Mediterranean to crew yachts instead. It was no wonder the marriage hadn’t worked. They’d been apart so much they’d surely have failed, even if he’d been able to keep his trousers on with so much beautiful female flesh around him. ‘I can just see you. You’d be shivering, even in August, and that handsome tan would fade.’

‘The tan’s gone. I’m not going back to the Med this year. Just looking at a bit of this and that, wherever I can get it.’ For the first time he sounded forlorn. ‘You know what, Ash? It isn’t the same without you.’

Alarm bells rang. ‘You’d freeze your favourite bits off in Ullswater.’

Lisa flung the bedroom door open without knocking, and her questioning expression rapidly turned to a scowl. ‘Get off the phone!’ she mouthed.

Ashleigh raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Sorry, Scott. What was that?’

‘Off the phone,’ Lisa hissed, maybe loud enough for Scott to hear. ‘Now!’

‘Okay. I have