Free A Place of Secrets by Rachel Hore Page A

“Finally. It’s incredibly hot out there, apparently. I mean really hot, nearly a hundred. The air-conditioning isn’t working and the builders have bungled the plumbing, so they’re staying with friends while Douglassorts it out.”
    “Poor Mum,” said Jude.
    “Lucky Mum,” Claire replied sardonically. “Remember, she has good old Douglas.”
    Jude grinned. After years of helpless widowhood, their mother took up Latin American dancing and met a new life partner. Douglas Hopkirk, retired actuary, was in some ways like their father—calm, practical, reassuring. “But he’s so dull,” Jude remembered Claire complaining toher after they’d first been introduced to him. “Nobody these days dresses like David Niven or says ‘Righto’ and drinks Cinzano. No wonder his wife went off.”
    “After thirty years of marriage,” Jude had replied. “He must have had something going for him. He’s very nice, actually. As long as you don’t ask him about golf. He can bore for England about handicaps.”
    “Or his tortoises. He went on tome half the evening about his wretched tortoises,” Claire had added with feeling.
    “What have they done with the tortoises?” Jude wondered now. “Can you take them on a plane?”
    “They’re with his daughter, but he’s planning to get them to Spain somehow and breed from them. I already know more than anyone would ever want to know about their mating habits, thank you.”
    “What do the tortoises do?”asked Summer, who’d been picking the mushrooms out of her risotto and piling them on a spare tablespoon.
    “They, er, have to try quite hard to make baby tortoises,” Jude said quickly.
    “Harder than people?”
    “Sometimes it’s hard with people,” she said, with feeling.
    “Auntie Jude, if you want a baby you need a man to be a daddy.” Summer was too young to remember Mark.
    “Eat up your risotto, Summer,”Claire murmured.
    “Yes, I do, Summer. But it’s not that easy finding one,” Jude replied.
    Summer regarded her with a serious expression, then said, “I wish I could find one for you.”
    “Thank you. That’s very sweet.” Jude and Claire exchanged glances of suppressed amusement.
    Claire, gathering up the plates, remarked to her daughter, “If you develop a matchmaking talent, sweetheart, you’ll alwaysbe able to earn your living.”
    * * *
    After supper Jude spent an hour on her laptop, studying the depressing monthly figures Inigo had e-mailed her and writing reassuring messages to the head of department. She promised to come into the office early on Monday and explained excitedly about the Starbrough collection.
    When she’d finished, which she reckoned would be early afternoon, since itwould be Saturday and Claire would be at the shop, she’d collect Summer from her friend’s house and take her somewhere. The beach was the most popular idea, if the weather held.
    She was just about to close down her laptop when she remembered Cecelia, whose help she needed with the astronomical instruments. She found the address and opened a new e-mail.
Hi, Cecelia,
I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch. I wonder where you are now—Cambridge, still? It would be great to meet and catch up, but I also need to ask your professional advice. When would be a good time? I’m going on holiday at the end of next week, but if there’s the tiniest chance you’re about before then that would be fantastic. Dinner one evening or a drink?
Much love,
Jude
    Jude awoke, disoriented, in pitch darkness. Themoaning that had woken her came again. Summer. Jude pushed herself up dizzily from the mattress and stumbled over in the direction of the noise. Now she could pick out her niece’s face in the moonlight that leached under the curtains. Summer’s eyes were closed but her expression was anguished. “ Maman, Maman ,” she whispered, “where are you? Maman!” The last word was louder. She stirred and wokewith a cry.
    Jude sat on the edge of the bed, stroking