The Killing of Katie Steelstock Read Online Free Page B

suggest Harvey Maxton. A dance with him isn’t a lot different from being mugged.”
    “It’s a pity Peter isn’t here,” said Mrs. Nurse. “I think he’s such a nice boy.”
    She had one eye on her daughter as she said this, but years of family in-fighting had rendered Sally proof against innuendos of this sort. She simply said, “He’s all right, I suppose.”
    The waltz had finished and the band was striking up a tango.
    “I’m not much of a hand at this number,” said Billy Gonville, who had come up behind them unseen, “but if you’re prepared to chance your arm—”
    “Why not,” said Sally. “You can only die once.”
    “Come on, then.”
    In common with other girls of her age and generation Sally was a much better dancer than most of the boys she met. She had never danced with Billy before. He was light on his feet and had a sense of rhythm, if not much expertise. But there was something more. She sensed – and it was a thing a girl is very rarely mistaken about – that he was interested in her. Nor, thank heaven, did he seem to want to talk.
    “Billy’s a nice boy,” said Mrs. Nurse.
    “He’s in insurance,” said her husband. “That’s a good steady job. Not exciting, perhaps, but safe.”
    “When I was a young girl in India,” said Roseabel Tress, “I was much attracted by the doctrines of Brahmanism. Brahma is the supreme being of post-Vedic Hindu mythology. I expect you know about all this, of course. You modern young clergymen are taught to be broad-minded.”
    “Well—” said the vicar.
    “Brahma the Creator, with Vishnu the Preserver and Siva the Destroyer. They form the Trimurti, that is, the great Hindu Triad. An interesting conception.”
    “Yes indeed.”
    “I was particularly fascinated by the place they allotted to animals in their pantheistic mythology. The elephant, the tortoise, the bull and the snake. Does it seem absurd to you to worship animals?”
    “Lots of people I know worship their dogs,” said the vicar. “I think I must go and give my wife a hand. We’re just coming up for the coffee break.”
    The coffee cups and lemonade glasses, the plates which had once contained tiny sandwiches, cakes and croissants and now contained nothing but crumbs, had all been cleared away. Outside it was growing dark. Walter Steelstock said to Lavinia, the oldest of the Havelock girls, “It’s very stuffy in here, isn’t it? What do you say we go outside and get a breath of fresh air?”
    Lavinia looked at him thoughtfully. Walter was supposed to be the steadiest of the three Steelstock children, a nice boy, they said, and a great help to his mother.
    “O.K.,” she said. “It is a bit hot.”
    There was a curtained opening on the right-hand side of the stage, which led to the back door of the hall. To the left the path led back to Church Lane. To the right a gate gave directly onto the churchyard.
    “Let’s sit down for a moment.”
    It was a black night, with the rind of a new moon just showing over the church tower. The seat was set back between an ancient yew tree and an elaborate tomb. On the headstone of the tomb an angel was poised on one toe, ready to take flight at the sound of the last trump. Walter, as they sat down, slid one arm around the girl in a practiced sort of way. The angel looked disapproving.
    Not quite as steady as people make out, thought Lavinia, who was nearly eighteen but not inexperienced. That was pretty smooth.
    “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” said Walter.
    “Now’s your chance.”
    “You mustn’t laugh at me.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “The fact is, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you all evening. Last time I saw you, I was still thinking of you as a schoolgirl. Now you’ve changed—did you know it yourself, I wonder?—into someone quite, quite different.”
    A small shadow moved under the darkness of the yew tree. A twig snapped. Walter swung around and said fiercely, “Who’s there? Come out of