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

in the future,’ she remarked, aware that she was only talking to herself, that she lacked even the gratitude to be grateful for the good things she’d had. ‘And where do I go from here, then? I wouldn’t have minded that card next up. I’m not going to lie.’

She turned up The Sun with a beaming smile. It was the most positive card in the deck, one that highlighted communication and positivity, everything good, everything focussed on herself. ‘No mention of a relationship, thank God.’ It would be churlish to reproach the fates for not offering her that.

And to move from the past to the future, from bitterness and corruption alongside the completed happiness, towards the promise of a sunny future, there was a final card. She turned over the Hanged Man.

It wasn’t a bad card, certainly not in the way that the uninitiated always seemed to think it was, though when she’d turned it up on previous occasions it had never proved particularly auspicious. But if you were to read it in the context of emotions, as she was inclined to do, it fitted very nicely with everything else she’d read and — irritatingly — with everything Lisa had just been shouting at her. Let go of your emotional baggage.

But she’d done that already. She had Jude as a lover and surely she could afford to keep Scott as a friend?

Twelve

‘I appreciate the favour.’ Ryan gave Becca his best, broadest outback smile, white teeth shining in his tanned face. ‘I don’t deserve you. But it’s the last one I’ll be asking.’

‘That sounds very dramatic.’ If she was a betting woman Becca would have put a couple of pounds on the fact it wasn’t the last, because Ryan had a unique assumption that it was normal to turn up without notice on the doorstep of family members he’d never met and then expect them not just to put him up but to cater for his every possible need. He might well justify it to himself on the grounds that he’d pay them all back if the situation was ever reversed, but he must know it never would be.

‘Nah. But I was thinking about what George said.’

‘I hope you didn’t take it too much to heart.’ Becca tucked her Fiat 500 in behind a caravan as they passed the turn for Howtown and Martindale, and dropped down the hill in to Pooley Bridge. She couldn’t see any signs of police activity, so the drama at Howtown must all be over. A sensitive soul, she spared a thought and a prayer for a young woman she’d never met.

‘What, that he shouted at me? No. I do get it. I forgot he’s old, and he doesn’t have that attitude we Aussies have. Just take it as it comes, roll up and someone will look after you.’

‘I know he can be difficult. I suppose I’ve known him so long I’ve just learned to deal with his idiosyncrasies.’

‘Must be it. But I’ll not bother him again. Shame, because he’s family, but that’s the way. But I do want to get to know the country, and it was a smart suggestion of his. I’ll get a tent.’

‘And camp down at Howtown? You might get a bit bored in the dale.’

‘There’s a lot more to see of the old country than Martindale. I thought I’d take a couple of weeks and bum around the fells a bit. Walk the Coast to Coast route, maybe. So I can say I’ve walked across a country.’

Becca tried not to show her relief. If Ryan disappeared for a week or so she’d have her evenings back, without being obliged to operate as his personal chauffeur or keep him occupied when all she wanted to do was sit down with a glass of wine, something on the telly and Holmes curled up her lap. There was a downside, and that was that Adam would be looking to occupy her free time and so she’d have to make her mind up about what to do about him, but she’d have had to do that sooner or later. ‘How long will that take?’

‘I reckon I could do it in a few days if I set my mind to it, but I’m in no hurry. I’ve given myself a couple of weeks to wander around. Communicate with nature. Look at the scenery. Smoke a bit of weed.’

Becca flinched. Somehow the conversation seemed to keep coming round to illegal substances. ‘Just don’t get caught.’

‘No-one’ll find me. England’s small compared to Oz, but it’s big enough.’

‘And busy enough, too. It’ll be heaving. Even if you’re wild camping you’ll hardly be alone.’

The caravan pulled in to a lay-by and she put her foot down, anxious about the time, keen to get to Glenridding while the outdoor shop they were heading for was still open so that she could get her cousin off her hands that evening rather than have to come back and try again the next day.

‘Trust me. I know how to disappear.’

The outdoor shop was still open when they arrived, and so was the local grocer. Armed with a list, Becca went in and stocked up on suitable foodstuffs to see Ryan through to the east coast while he went in to buy the camping kit. She was out before he was, and strayed over to the other side of the road to look over the lake. The lower slopes of Hallin Fell were bright with new ferns, the upper ones a more subtle shade of green, and the speeding clouds rolled over it, sending shadows rippling on the grass like waves. Nestled in a twist of the shoreline, the Neilsons’ home commanded the lake.

‘Okay?’ Ryan appeared beside her, his old, well-worn rucksack bulging with his purchases. A tent was strapped to the bottom, a carry-mat to the top, a water bottle each side. ‘I’ve got the lot. Maps, compass, water purifying tablets, everything.’

‘I remembered matches, though you’d better find something waterproof to put them