Frances put the chicken bone into a box and picked a mince pie. ‘So,’ she mused between bites, ‘why on earth was Ella-Mae wound tighter than a spring?’
‘Because of her chequered past,’ Jack replied with more sympathy than she thought necessary. ‘Just because she didn’t mind a good time doesn’t mean she wanted to go back to her old friends. Can you imagine her, when her new girl-friend, who incidentally is an item with our Randolph, deliberately bought cocaine in front of Len, boasting they had something to celebrate.’
‘She wanted Len to hear.’
‘She banked on him remembering the incident should the police have decided to investigate Ella-Mae.’ He shook his head. ‘You know, she might even have been fond of her husband. He gave her more than luxury, he gave her respectability, which isn’t that easy to come by when you’ve grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.’
She finished off her meal with a melt-in-the-mouth lamington, grateful she couldn’t be expected to answer with her mouth full. She rubbed her ankle.
‘I’ll clear away our picnic,’ Jack said, ‘and then I’ll come and help you to the car.’ He stacked and packed with brisk movements that spoke of experience. The rolled-up picnic rug fit into a strap at the side of the hamper, and another strap secured the silver-plated champagne bucket.
He led her to a wooden bench. His hand brushed her cheek. ‘I’ll be back in a coo-ee as my uncle in New Zealand would say.’
She stretched out her foot. She rolled down the woollen sock she wore to hide the bandage and slid her fingers down the ankle. The swelling was nearly gone. Maybe she’d made a wrong move for a jolt of pain to occur.
‘Do you mind if I sit down, miss?’ A lanky young man stood in front of her, trying very obviously not to look at her bared leg.
‘Not at all, you’re welcome,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’ He gave her a smile that lit up his whole face. ‘I’m new to Adelaide, and I’ve been hiking for hours getting a feel for the place.’
‘Do you like it so far?’
‘I love it,’ he said. ‘But then I’m from a place the size of a stamp, and any town would seem grand. But this …’ he opened his arms as if to embrace the city, nearly hitting Frances in the process, ‘this is special for sure. And I’ve got a job as a junior clerk and a room in a boarding-house with only two other men to share.’ His brown eyes sparkled. ‘No offence, Miss, but you’ve been kind enough to offer me a sit and yack on, so I wondered, if maybe you’d join me for a cup of tea?’
Before she could decide on an answer, the young man was interrupted.
‘This is becoming to be a habit, having to chase away other men as soon as my back is turned,’ Jack said, sitting down next to her and pulling her tight. ‘Sorry, my boy, but this lady’s definitely with me.’
The End
A Note from Bombshell Books:
Thanks for reading A Matter of Love and Death . We hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. Please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads to help others find and enjoy this book too.
We make every effort to ensure that books are carefully edited and proofread, however occasionally mistakes do slip through. If you spot something, please do send details to [email protected] and we can amend it.
Bombshell Books specialise in women’s fiction. We regularly have special offers including free and discounted eBooks. To be the first to hear about these special offers, why not join our mailing list here? We won’t send you more than two emails per month and we’ll never pass your details on to anybody else.
Readers who enjoyed A Matter of Love and Death will also enjoy
A Time To Change by Callie Langridge
The Blood Of Kings by Angela King
Acknowledgments
This book might never have seen the light of day without the patient advice of Margaret Kaufeler-Evans, Jane Austin and Edwin Rydberg, who bore with me through the complete first draft. Thank you for support.
I also need to credit a trio of the most generous, witty and enthusiastic writers I’ve ever met. Fiona Leitch (who also made all the right comments in all the right places as a reader), Emma Pullar and Tracy Shefras helped me in my search for a pen name, in one of the most fun-filled online discussions in history. Without these ladies, Caron Albright would not exist.
As always, my biggest thanks goes to my daughter, whose faith in my ability is unwavering.
But what use is a book without readers? That is why I would like to extend my gratitude to everyone who picked up this novel and made it all the way through to the end. Thank you for letting Jack and Frances (and me) into your lives. I hope we’ll meet again.
A Matter of Love and Death Page 23