The House on the Cliff
Page 27
Bob looked puzzled.
“You know. Nella’s boyfriend.”
“Oh, Gareth. Well, he appeared again today. They seem to be spending a lot of time together. Playing the guitar and singing and stuff.” He paused. “He seems like a decent enough chap.”
He shrugged, and I realized he’d come round to Nella’s new suitor.
“And Rose? What’s she up to?”
“She’s fine. She’s decided she wants a companion for Miffy.”
“Who?”
“The rabbit.”
“Oh.”
I felt distressed that I’d forgotten the name of the rabbit, as well as Nella’s boyfriend.
“Don’t worry,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “We’re all managing fine for the time being. But we need you back soon, Jess. I need you.” A look of anguish came over his face. “I never realized how much, until now.”
He reached out and took my hand. I was surprised. Bob’s not usually a one for passionate declarations. He seemed surprised, too, and a little embarrassed.
“Oh,” he said, letting go of my hand. “I nearly forgot. Something came for you today, in the post.”
He brought out a small package and handed it over. I looked at the printed label on the front. It had come from an Internet site selling antique jewelry, direct to my address. It was carefully wrapped, so it took a while to open. In fact halfway through I gave up, and Bob had to finish the job for me.
“Look,” he said, handing me a small box. There was no greeting card with it. I lifted the lid and inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a necklace. I held it up.
It was a slim silver chain dotted with tiny gray gemstones. On the end of it was an antique pendant made of mother-of-pearl. The pendant was round and exquisitely carved, with the scene of an old-fashioned ship on a wavy sea, each billowing sail, the crest of each wave, intricately worked into the smooth shell.
I looked more closely, holding the pendant up to the light. The mother-of-pearl was streaked and translucent, like fog bathing the ship in an eerie glow, but in the middle of it, over the mast, the sun shone from behind a carved cloud, through four tiny holes.
It was then I realized what it was.
I leaned my head forward and Bob put the pendant around my neck.
“It’s pretty,” he said. “Who’s it from?”
“Oh. Just an ex-client of mine,” I replied. I looked down and saw the little ship gleam in the light. “A man who used to be scared of buttons.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After studying philosophy in college, CHARLOTTE WILLIAMS went on to work as an arts journalist, writing for newspapers and magazines, and making documentaries for the BBC. She now works in radio drama, writing original plays and adaptations.
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COPYRIGHT
Cover design by Andrea Cardenas
Cover photographs: © Michael Trevillion / Trevillion Images (house); Jill Battaglia / Trevillion Images (landscape)
Reprinted with permission from SLACK Incorporated: Loftus, E. F., and Pickrell, J.E., The Formation of False Memories, Psychiatric Annals. 1995; 25: 720-725.
Macksey, R., and Donato, E., eds. The Structuralist Controversy: The Languages of Criticism and the Sciences of Man. © 1972 The Johns Hopkins University Press. Reprinted with permission of The Johns Hopkins University Press.
This book was first published in Great Britain in 2013 by Macmillan.
THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF. Copyright © 2013 by Charlotte Williams. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST U.S. EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-06-228457-0
EPUB Edition © NOVEMBER 2013 ISBN 9780062284587
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