by Maynard Sims
“I think it broke her father. From what I could tell he doted on his daughter once his wife left him. I think that when Jessica died it finished him. He moved away…abroad…Malta, I think…but kept the house on. He returned to England after a while, but settled near Cambridge. He never came back to live at Stillwater, and it’s been a rental property ever since.”
“How long ago did all this happen?”
“About fifteen years now,” Gwen Latham said.
“And the house has been let out ever since?”
“Yes, but only sporadically,” Latham said. “You’re the first tenant in about four years. The place was standing empty before you came along. I must say, it was a relief to many of us in the village when we heard that Stillwater was going to be occupied again.”
“Why’s that?”
“What is it they say?” Latham said. “Nature abhors a vacuum? Just six months ago you wouldn’t have recognized the place. The garden was completely overgrown. The rhododendrons were rampant, and so many plants had been strangled by the bindweed.”
“The house was in a shocking state of disrepair. Houses die if they’re not occupied, and Stillwater was well on the way.” Gwen continued. “Many of the windows were broken and at least three of the shutters had gone. The gutters were down, and the paths were cracked and broken. It was a vandals’ paradise.” She paused, noticing the look of surprise on Beth’s face. “Oh yes, even here in the back of beyond we still fall foul of many of society’s ills. Luckily Falmer’s are a fairly conscientious company. They put the place straight. I think the only part of the estate that wasn’t refurbished was the lake. No one touched that.”
“Which is just as well,” Latham said. “Considering that Jessica met her end there. In my opinion, to tart it up would, I don’t know…tarnish her memory.”
Gwen Latham laughed sharply. “You sentimental old fool,” she said tartly, and then, to Beth, “You listen to him and you’d think the whole village was in mourning for her.”
“And that wasn’t the case?”
“Well, I didn’t shed any tears for her, and I can think of many who shared my view of her. Good riddance, I said at the time.”
“Gwen!” Latham said. “That’s not very charitable.”
“Maybe, but I still think the girl was a troublemaker.”
“You’ve no evidence for that. Just local gossip.”
“Well, as they say, there’s no smoke…”
“Enough!” Latham said. He turned to Beth. “What must you think of us, Beth? Honestly, we’re not small-minded people. Would you like a coffee?”
“I’d love one, but decaf if you have it, otherwise I’ll spend the night bouncing off the walls.”
“No problem,” Latham said, and left the room.
Beth glanced across at Gwen, who was grinning mischievously. She caught Beth’s questioning look.
“Oh, take no notice of us. Arthur’s a lovely man and I care for him deeply. He just has blind spots in certain areas. He’s far too trusting. He tries to see the good in everyone. But sometimes there’s no good to be found.”
“And that applied to Jessica Franklin?”
“In my opinion, and that of many others in the village.”
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Mother of Demons
Copyright © 2015 by Maynard Sims
ISBN: 978-1-61922-749-1
Edited by Don D’Auria
Cover by Kelly Martin
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2015
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