Page 65

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

S andy parked her car and was about to get out when the sound of a shotgun being fired made her jump. ‘Oh my God,’ she muttered.

Then her client, Miriam, had calmly walked around the cottage, shotgun in her hand. ‘Bloody rabbits,’ she grumbled. ‘Good for a pie tonight, though.’

Sandy sighed with relief. Inside the cottage, it smelled of damp, smelly carpets and the musty odour of antiquated furniture.

‘My sister wants me to stay with her next week. She’s not well. How can I say no? But I can’t go unless I can get someone to feed the chickens and cat.’

‘I’ll feed them,’ said Sandy, without thinking. One week of not having to sit in Miriam’s house for an hour suddenly seemed idyllic. A quick in and out to feed the animals, and she’d be done.

Anyway, she assured herself, it was a good idea for Miriam to get away. It was too isolating living alone on a farm. Miriam had strange ideas about spirit gods. Sandy had always ignored Miriam’s mumbo-jumbo, but she knew many people went to see Miriam for tarot card readings. Sandy had always thought it was a load of nonsense.

That day, as she was heading for the door, Miriam asked, ‘How’s your husband, dear?’

Sandy turned and gawped at her. ‘What?’

‘Your husband, dear,’ repeated Miriam, frowning deeply. ‘Something’s troubling him.’

Sandy was flummoxed and didn’t know what to say. Miriam looked absent-minded and said, ‘Don’t forget the chickens and cat.’

Sandy could feel anticipation building within her. She wanted to know more about Ray. She took a deep breath and asked, ‘Is it another woman?’ It had always worried her. Ray went to many conferences. There were always going to be pretty women there.

Miriam smiled. ‘Isn’t it always? Chicken feed is in the shed, and cat food is under the sink.’

The door closed on Sandy.