Clara Read Online Free Page B

awarded? It’s up there with the Victoria Cross and the CongressionalMedal of Honor. Apart from that it’s worth a fortune on eBay.”
    “I know you are joking. You can’t sell those things on eBay because of the swastika on them.”
    “Well. The
thing
, as you call it, has a history. It was the one medal Dad valued, and you know why. Because of who gave it to him.”
    “I know that,” she said. “But your dad would not want you to cause trouble over it.”
    “Or maybe he would. One day I’ll find out who took it and I’ll ask for it back. Was it the snarky one with the tattoo?”
    “Willa-dear,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.” There was a silence into which she said, “Willa? I’m fine. There is no need for you to stand up for me. Or for your dad. Really. I miss him of course, and I know you do too.” She sat back in the chair and tightened the Sellotape on the microphone, which was a thing of inferior plastic that had broken on the first day.
    “Willa,” she said. “You have your love of animals from him, you know that. I don’t know why I’m saying that.” She listened. “Willa …” she said gently. “Willa-dear …” and she paused and then did not know what more to say.
    Next day in the late afternoon, when it was getting dark already and she had turned on the lights in her study, Emma came by to pick up the cheque. Her husband, Tomas, had come along, and Clara made tea for them and she held on to Emma’s shoulder as she climbed the chairto bring a fresh tin of Mitzi’s raisin cookies down from the kitchen cupboard.
    They sat in the living room under the tasselled lampshade and Emma poured tea and talked about school. Tomas sat eyeing the envelope with Emma’s name on it, and when tea had been poured and he had munched the first cookie, he reached for the envelope and opened it with the handle of his teaspoon. He took out the cheque and read the amount. He put the cheque back and pushed the envelope with two fingers across the tablecloth toward Emma. Emma blushed. She indicated his mouth and he brushed away a cookie crumb.
    “Did Willa get the same?” he said.
    “Yes. Why do you ask?”
    “Just curious.”
    “That’s all there is, Tom. For now.” She did not dislike him, not exactly, but she’d liked Emma’s first husband better. As had Emma, she knew. Claude had been a pilot with Air France, and he’d been fun and intelligent, but then something had gone wrong in the marriage. Emma had moved back to St. Töllden and she’d met Tom, a widower with two children. They had three more. He took early retirement when his accounting firm closed over some lawsuit, and he’d been looking for part-time work ever since.
    “That’s all right,” he said. “The amount. We appreciate any help you can give. Thank you. Did you speak to them at the museum?”
    “No. Not yet, Tom. I’ll wait until they’ve come to pick up the boxes. There’ll be a natural opportunity then.”
    “There must be something I can do there.”
    “I don’t know. They probably have an accountant already.”
    “Their archives, maybe. The sooner, the better, Clara. A small favour.”
    “People study for that line of work, Tom. It is special. They have degrees. Art history, archaeology, library arts. Maybe there are courses you could take to get some kind of qualification. Even just as an archivist.”
    “Maybe,” he said. “Just ask them.”
    “I said I would.”
    And Emma, sweet and unlucky Emma trapped here between mother and husband, said, “It’s getting dark so early these days. Look at that sky. Tommy, maybe we should go soon.”
    After they had left, and after she’d cleared away the tea things, the lawyer called.
    “Doctor Herzog,” he said. “Did your husband leave a firearm of any kind? There’s none licensed to him, but you never know. They’ll need a declaration from you.”
    She sat down on the chair by the telephone. “A firearm? Like a rifle?”
    “Or a pistol. Any kind of