Free The Skeleton Room by Kate Ellis Page B

.’
    ‘Bloody long walk to the shops.’ Another gale of private laughter.
    Sam knew they were right. It was a mile at least into Tradmouth. And it would all be uphill on the way back. He cursed his
     lapse of memory. He had been in a rush to get to his new job on time and lunch had been the last thing on his mind.
    It was best to get it over with. He thrust his spade into the ground with a violence that surprised him and began to walk
     around the side of the house towards the gate.
    ‘Hello. Don’t tell me you’ve finished already.’
    He swung round and saw the lady of the house emerging from the kitchen door. He had seen her when she had brought out mugs
     of tea to the thirsty workers. She was a tall woman with short hair, fair turning to grey. She looked sympathetic and capable,
     the sort who might well be a former nursing sister or teacher. But she was also attractive for her age, which Sam estimated
     to be around the mid-fifties, and she had a figure that would have been more fashionable in the ample days of Marilyn Monroe
     than the lean times Sam had known since he had first noticed that girls were different from boys.
    ‘How’s the work coming on?’
    ‘Er, fine. I’m, er, just going out to get something to eat. I forgot to bring any lunch. It’s my first day and . . .’ The
     sentence trailed off. He could think of nothing more to say. Perhaps he had said too much already, but there was something
     motherly about the woman, something that invited confidences.
    ‘There’s no need for you to go all the way to the shops,’ she said with a sympathetic smile. ‘I can make you a sandwich.’
     She suddenly frowned, as if she feared she’d made a terrible faux pas. ‘Is that all right? If you’d rather . . .’
    ‘No, that’s great. Thanks.’
    ‘Come on into the kitchen. No need to let the others know you’re getting special treatment.’
    Sam followed her into the large kitchen, careful to take off his muddy boots before stepping over the threshold.
    ‘I’ve got some smoked salmon in the fridge. Is that okay?’
    Sam nodded eagerly. He had a weakness for smoked salmon but he wouldn’t have liked to have consumed it in front of Andy and
     Keith, who would probably consider that such refined tastes cast doubt on his masculinity. ‘This is very good of you, Mrs
     . . . er . . .’
    ‘Carole. Carole Sanders. And you’re . . .?’
    ‘Sam Heffernan.’
    ‘And it’s your first day with Tradmouth Landscapes?’
    He nodded, watching her assemble the sandwich. ‘I’m a student. I’m just working for them in my vacation.’
    ‘What are you studying?’
    ‘Veterinary Science up in Liverpool.’
    She smiled with approval. ‘So you’re going to be a vet? Very worthwhile job. Would you like to work around here?’
    ‘Yes. I think I’d prefer to work with farm animals rather than just pets.’
    She handed him the sandwich, neatly cut in two, on a white china plate, and watched him devour it hungrily. ‘Want another?’
    Sam nodded. He was a growing lad. And at that moment he preferred Carole Sanders’ company to that of Andy and Keith.
    He looked around the kitchen: it was large and expensively fitted with all the appliances concealed behind polished-oak cupboard
     doors.
    ‘Sam, could you fetch me a loaf from the pantry over there?’ She pointed to a closed door in the far corner of the room. ‘It’s
     on the bottom shelf. You can’t miss it.’
    Sam hurried over obediently. The pantry was large and in the corner a trapdoor stood propped open – a wine cellar perhaps.
     He licked his lips as he located the sliced whole-meal loaf: he could have drunk a glass or two of wine with his sandwich,
     although he doubted that his hostess’s hospitality would extend that far. But he couldn’t complain.
    As soon as Carole Sanders had made the second sandwich, she looked at the kitchen clock and announced that she was going out
     to work – she worked part time in an office in Tradmouth – but