The pocket doors to the front hall crashed open. Mrs. Embers stumbled into the studio, strands of dark hair falling across her eyes. “I need your help, Julius. I’m hurt.” She clutched her stomach.
“Christ!” Julius put down the flash lamp. “Get them out of here, Gracie.” He charged across the room and grabbed his mother by the arm to escort her away.
“You need to go immediately.” Grace handed me Stephen’s parcel and pushed on my back to get me to move faster.
I looked over my shoulder. “What happened to Mrs. Embers?”
“Please, just go.”
He glances around the room and his eyes light on the pile of charity-shop paperbacks on the rickety table. “What about those?”
I shake my head dismissively. “No room for them. I can’t keep books.”
I wonder whether he caught the note of sadness in my voice, because he immediately switches the suit to one hand and gathers the books up under his other arm. “There’s plenty of room in my house for books,” he says briskly and nods as if to emphasise his point. “There’s a couple of titles here that I fancy reading myself.”
Moisture pricks the back of my eyes. Who is this man?
I had Random.org select a random % for me and it decided on 37%.
“I’ve missed Mr. Samson,” Alisha said.
“Mother, he was a monster. And he’s been in his grave for a year. At least I thought he was in his grave. And, you’re driving around with him -no wait, he’s driving around with you in the truck?”