Midnight is a Lonely Place Read Online Free Page B

Diana went straight to the heavy iron pan simmering quietly on the Aga and peered inside it before she took off her coat.
    ‘Bill rang.’ Roger stretched and reached for the newspaper which had slid from his inert fingers as he slept. Indignant at the move, Number One cat, Serendipity Smith, slipped from his knees and diving through the open studwork which separated the kitchen from the living room, went to sit on the rug in front of the fire, staring enigmatically into the embers. ‘They should be here by about three. Apparently she’s an absolute cracker!’ He grinned at his eldest son and gave a suggestive wink. ‘You might try charming her, Greg, just this once. I can’t believe as your mother’s son you are completely devoid of the art.’
    ‘Oh you.’ Diana gave her husband a playful tap on the head.
    Greg ignored them both. Sealed in an intense inner world of frustrated imagination he frequently missed his parents’ affectionate banter. Walking through to the fire he stooped and threw on a log. ‘Half the old dune behind the cottage has gone,’ he called through to them. ‘You know the one which shelters it from the north-easterlies. A few more tides like that one last week and we’ll need to worry about the cottage being washed away.’
    ‘Rubbish.’ Diana, having hung up her coat was now tying a huge apron over her trousers. The apron sported a giant red London bus which appeared to be driving across the rotund acres of her stomach. She shook her head. ‘No way. That cottage has been there hundreds of years.’
    ‘And once upon a time it was miles from the sea, my darling.’ Roger stood up. Painfully thin, his face was haggard with tiredness, a symptom of the illness which had forced him to take early retirement. ‘Come on. Why don’t I open a bottle of wine. That stew of yours smells so good I could eat it.’ He smiled and his wife, on her way back to the Aga with her wooden spoon, paused to give him a quick hug.
    ‘Show Dad the piece of china you found in the dune, Allie,’ Greg called from the next room. His sister, still wearing her anorak, had seated herself at the table, her elbows planted amongst the knives and forks which Patrick had aligned with geometric neatness. She fished in her pocket and produced it.
    Roger took it from her and turned it over with interest. ‘Its unusual. Old I should say. Look at the colour of that glaze, Greg.’ He held it out towards his eldest son. Reluctantly, Greg left the fire. Taking the fragment he turned it over in his hands. ‘You could take it into the museum some time, kiddo,’ he said to Alison. ‘See what they say.’
    ‘I might.’ Alison stood up and they were all surprised to see her eyes alight with excitement. Her usual carefully-studied air of ennui had for a moment slipped. ‘Do you know what I think? I think it’s Roman. There’s stuff just like it in the castle museum.’
    ‘Oh, Allie love, it couldn’t be. Not out here.’ Diana had produced four glasses from the cupboard. She handed her husband the corkscrew. ‘The Romans never came this far out of Colchester.’
    ‘They did, actually. They’ve found a lot of Roman stuff at Kindling’s farm,’ Roger put in. He tore the foil from the top of the wine bottle. ‘Do you remember? They found the remains of a villa there. Some rich Roman chap from Colchester retired here. They found an inscription.’
    Alison nodded. ‘Marcus Severus Secundus,’ she said, intoning the words softly.
    ‘That’s right.’ Roger nodded. ‘There was an article about him in the local paper. And they found even older stuff too. Iron Age, I think it was, or Bronze Age or something. Are you still thinking of doing something archaeological for your project, Allie?’ He smiled at his daughter.
    ‘Might.’ Her sudden burst of enthusiasm had apparently run its course. She sat down again and spread her elbows, scattering knives and forks. Patrick frowned, but he said nothing. He had learned a long