Free The Second Silence by Eileen Goudge Page B

her dress from last night, a light blue silk sheath now hopelessly wrinkled. She glanced at Mary as if only mildly surprised to find her mother, who lived more than a hundred miles away, seated at the kitchen table having coffee with her grandmother.
    Mary longed to jump up and embrace her, but something in Noelle’s face warned her to stay put. ‘Oh, honey,’ she cried softly in dismay.
    Noelle spoke as if in a deep trance. ‘He says I don’t deserve Emma, that she’ll be better off with him.’ The full weight of it struck home, and she collapsed bonelessly into the chair next to Mary’s. Hoarsely she whispered, ‘He accused me of being drunk last night.’
    ‘Were you?’ Mary forced herself to ask.
    Noelle shot her a look of unadulterated scorn. ‘Would you believe me if I said no?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Noelle’s hard expression dissolved into one of confusion. ‘I don’t know what happened. I started feeling dizzy at the restaurant, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor.’ She ran a trembling hand over her face. ‘I can’t be sure, but I think Robert might have slipped something into my soda.’
    Mary had no doubt Robert was capable of such a thing. Even so, the idea was like something out of a soap opera. Sitting in this sunny kitchen with its African violets on the sill and Porky the Pig cookie jar on the counter by the breadbox, she thought it more than a little absurd.
    At the same time she was acutely aware that a great deal hinged on her reply. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him,’ she said crisply. ‘How do you feel now?’
    ‘Like I got hit over the head with a croquet mallet.’ Noelle groaned.
    ‘I’ll get you some coffee.’ Mary started to get up, but Noelle’s hand shot out with lightning quickness to fasten about her wrist.
    It was her haunted eyes, though, that held Mary captive. ‘I know what it looks like, but you’ve got to believe me.’ Noelle’s fingers tightened, digging into her flesh. ‘He wants everyone to think I was drunk. It’s all part of his scheme.’
    ‘What about the police? Do you think it would help if we phoned them?’ Even as she said it, Mary was dubious. The deputy sheriff, Wade Jewett, was an old buddy of Robert’s.
    ‘I already threatened to do that.’ Noelle dropped her hand from Mary’s wrist and sat back, eyes brimming with unshed tears. ‘Robert just laughed and told me to call his lawyer. He claims to have gotten a judge to sign an order of protective custody.’
    Doris bolted upright in her chair. ‘Why, of all the lowdown, dirty—’
    ‘Do you think he’s telling the truth?’ Mary interrupted.
    ‘I don’t doubt it for an instant. He planned the whole thing. He set the trap. And I—I walked right into it with my eyes open.’ Noelle’s shoulders slumped, and she buried her face in her hands. When she lifted her head, her cheeks were wet with tears.
    ‘You’ll need a lawyer of your own,’ Mary told her.
    Noelle’s expression was dismal. ‘The only lawyers I know are the ones who work for Robert.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth, frowning in anger, not just at Robert but at her own naïveté.
    Mary suddenly remembered her old friend Lacey Buxton. They’d fallen out of touch, but she’d heard Lacey was back in town, setting up practice. ‘I know someone who might be able to help,’ she ventured. ‘A woman I went to school with.’ She spoke carefully, so as not to arouse false hope. ‘Let’s hope her home number is listed.’
    ‘I’ll check.’ Doris rose to her feet and shuffled over to the phone on the wall, reaching into the drawer below to retrieve a directory that was thinner than Mary’s address book at home.
    ‘Look under Buxton,’ Mary directed. ‘Lacey Buxton.’
    Doris glanced up sharply, her mouth flattening with disapproval. ‘Well, if that’s your idea of a life rope we might just as well call the undertaker.’
    ‘What do you have against Lacey?’ Mary wanted to know.
    ‘As if you