Читать книгу The Dream Weavers онлайн | страница 4

Turning on the lights as he went, he ran down the stairs and dragged the door open. No one. Stepping onto the terrace, he shouted into the cold mist, trying to see her, but there was no sign of anyone there; nothing but the empty swirling whiteness.

He waited until morning to ring his landlady. It wasn’t only the physical chill of the place. It was that the cold went right through his bones to his very soul. This had to be sorted.

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Bea arranged to meet Simon in one of her favourite coffee shops in Church Street, almost in the shadow of the cathedral, round the corner from her home. They had never met before, but she spotted him at once, hesitating in the doorway, looking round. His glance swept over her, moved on, then came back. She wondered what sort of person he was looking for. The one he saw was a woman of middle height, her hair wavy, mid brown, no make-up, but undeniably attractive, with clear skin and large grey-green eyes. She raised a hand and he nodded, threading his way between the tables towards her.

She half expected him to be embarrassed. People usually were when they talked about ghosts; embarrassed or dismissive or scared, but he seemed calm and humorously resigned.

‘Mrs Dalloway?’

‘Beatrice, please. Or better still, Bea.’

He smiled. ‘I’m Simon.’

The waitress brought their coffee and Bea studied him surreptitiously as the girl set out their cups. He was tall – he had had to bend his head beneath the low beams as he crossed the room – with a hearty outdoor complexion, a sturdy tweed jacket, tousled blond hair and hazel eyes. If she hadn’t known better, she would have had him down as a local farmer, certainly not the London academic Chris had described. Age: indeterminate. Probably much the same as her.

‘I expect Christine has filled you in on my problem,’ he said when the waitress had gone. ‘When I rented the cottage, she never mentioned a ghost.’

Bea found herself grimacing. ‘I don’t think, to be fair, she knew there was one.’

Chris, one of Bea’s staunchest and best friends, had bought the small tumbledown building several years ago. With the help of her husband, Ray, she had done it up to be the most perfect retreat.


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