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

to go. Enjoy the rest of your birthday.’ She flicked the call off and turned to her housemate. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Something the matter? I’ll bloody say so.’ Lisa, tall and stick-thin, stood with legs braced apart, hands off hips, looking like a strange runic symbol from an ancient grave. ‘That was Scott, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but it’s his birthday. That’s all it was.’

‘He called you, and you answered. Ashleigh O’Halloran, what in the name of all that’s holy do you think you were doing?’

Ashleigh put the phone down and spun round in her chair. Lisa was only articulating what her own better judgement was struggling with. ‘I was wishing my ex-husband a happy birthday. Because we’re adults and we’re civilised.’

‘I thought you’d let him go.’

‘I have.’

‘Really? Well, I’ve got news for you. When you let someone go you don’t call them to wish them a happy birthday.’

‘He knows there’s no chance of me taking him back. Do you want me never to speak to him again?’ Ashleigh spun back, picked up the cards and began to shuffle them, cutting and intercutting. The Queen of Cups dropped out of the pack and she scooped it up and put it back.

‘Yes.’ Lisa was never afraid of expressing her opinions. ‘That’s exactly what I want. Because you’ve forgotten how awful he was to you. You’ve forgotten how miserable he made you. And I haven’t.’

Ashleigh pursed her lips. If she had any courage she should ask the cards about Scott, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. ‘It’s nice of you to be concerned.’ She struggled to keep the irritation out of her voice. ‘But you don’t know what went on in my marriage.’ Only she and Scott knew that.

‘No, but I know what you were like when it all went wrong. I know what he did to you.’

‘He didn’t do anything. You’re talking as if he’s a domestic abuser and I’m some defenceless child. He was just never there.’

‘Ash.’ Lisa must have realised that shouting would get her nowhere, so she dropped her arms and composed herself into an altogether more appeasing shape, leaning against the door frame, head tilted archly to one side. The landing light shone behind her head so her short dark hair glowed like a halo. ‘Come on. You know how upset you were. You don’t know how worried we all were about you.’

It was sometimes hard to be so rational, trained to analyse the evidence. There was no denying Ashleigh had come closer than she dared to think to a breakdown when she’d realised nothing she could ever do would change Scott’s character, that fidelity was an impossibility for him. ‘You had no need to be. It turned out okay.’

‘Yes, but you had to give up your job.’

‘That wasn’t Scott.’ That had been because of Faye Scanlon, a woman with emotional problems of her own who’d tumbled into an affair with her junior officer and then ended it the moment she sensed any risk to her career. God, Ashleigh thought, looking at her reflection in the mirror, I may have nearly lost it over Scott but it wasn’t him who made me go. And if she could handle Faye, who’d kicked her when she was down, she could surely handle Scott, who was only ever true to his nature.

‘I just don’t want you to get hurt again.’

Ashleigh softened again. Lisa was thirty-two and had never, as far as she knew, fallen in love, so how could she understand what madness came on you when you lost your heart to someone? But friendship came with just as many commitments and compromises as marriage, though a different sort. ‘Yeah, I know. I appreciate it.’

‘I just don’t want him to treat you the same way again.’

‘He won’t get the chance. I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t love him any more, but I still like him and I want to be his friend.’

‘Hmm.’ Maybe Ashleigh hadn’t been as convincing as she’d hoped, because Lisa radiated scepticism, but she didn’t press the matter. ‘Okay. But if I think you’re back with him—’

‘If I get back with him —which I won’t — it’ll be nobody’s business but mine and his. But if it makes you feel better you can give me a piece of your mind.’ Ashleigh cut the cards one final time and then dealt them out. ‘I’ll be down when I’ve had my bath.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on. We both need cocoa.’ Lisa turned and whisked out.

Without thinking, Ashleigh had laid the cards out in two rows of two. To get anything out of a reading you needed to think beforehand about what you wanted to from it. Still, she’d started, so she’d carry on, and she certainly wasn’t going to risk interrogating the cards, or anyone else, on the subject of Scott Kirby.

She turned the first card up. ‘What’s worrying me that shouldn’t?’ she asked, the first question that entered her head.

The Four of Pentacles, a beast of an image if ever there was one. An old man, clutching treasures to himself, was the representation of avarice and possessiveness, of materialism and manipulation. No-one could ever accuse Scott of being materialistic, she thought outraged, then remembered it wasn’t about him. ‘Good. I don’t need to worry. So if there was anything, it’s behind me, right?’ So what did it mean? Faye perhaps? Or just life. But it was heartening advice, and if she was going to draw the Four of Pentacles anywhere, it was in a position where it stood for the past.

‘Next. What’s over and done?’ She hovered her hand over that one for a moment, not sure which part of her life she was so keen to find closure in, and then she turned it over. A calm feeling came over her as she did so. The Two of Cups, one of the better cards. Two lovers, smiling at each other. Normally she’d have been delighted to find it. ‘I’d have liked to see this one