Free The Seven Stars by Anthea Fraser Page A

when he’s not behind the bar?’
    ‘ When he’s neither behind the bar nor poring over his charts, he’s a feature writer for Broadshire Life . ’
    ‘ His charts?’ Helen queried.
    ‘ He’s a would-be astrologer, but at the moment he has to content himself with writing horoscopes for the local rag.’
    ‘ Really? He told me he was interested in it, but I never made the connection. I even read my horoscope last time I was here, but I didn’t recognise him from the photograph.’
    ‘ I’m not surprised: it was taken years ago. How was the forecast?’
    She laughed. ‘Way out.’
    ‘ That figures. But the serious stuff is something different, or so I’m led to believe. Based on the time and place of birth, the position of the planets, and so on. And that’s what poor old Gordon would give his eyeteeth to get into.’
    ‘ He could make a start with mine. I could use a bit of guidance at the moment.’
    ‘ Then ask him. You could be the first of an illustrious line of clients.’
    ‘ I might just do that.’ She finished her brandy. ‘Thanks for that; you were right, I did need it. Now, if you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go upstairs. It’s been a long day, and I want to be fresh for the morning.’
    He stood with her. ‘Of course. Sleep well.’
    *
    It was as she was on the point of sleep that a snippet of conversation came back to her, which, subconsciously, might be why she’d not mentioned witnessing Molly’s headlong departure.
    Well , dammit , I thought she’d gone . God knows how much she heard .
    Helen shivered , pulled the bedclothes over her head and determinedly went to sleep.
     

 
    5
     
    Gordon Cain walked across the courtyard to his study in the mews block. Overhead , the weak January sun was pushing aside the clouds and spilling a watery light on to the damp ground. He took out his key and let himself in, welcoming the warm blast of air from the central heating.
    When they had bought the Seven Stars four years ago , this building had been virtually derelict, a mouldering store with broken windows, full of discarded furniture and cardboard boxes. Even then, he had seen its possibilities.
    The block was divided into three , originally stables below and coachmen’s quarters above. Nicholas had suggested knocking it into one building, to provide extra accommodation for family visits, but Gordon insisted that the end block nearest the garden should remain separate for his own use. Having never had space nor privacy while working from home, he did not intend to lose this opportunity and Nicholas, with no strong feelings on the matter, had shrugged and allowed him his way.
    This downstairs space was a kitchen , with a hob where quick snacks could be warmed up without having to return to the house. It was furnished with a small fridge, table, chair and sink, and a cupboard for crockery and assorted tinned food.
    An open staircase led to the room above , where almost the entire roof had been replaced by skylights offering a panoramic view of sky. Gordon loved to stand here at night, gazing up at the thousands of lights framed in the windows. Though modern charts meant there was no need actually to study the stars, he felt a great affinity with those other worlds spinning out there, worlds which, for him, no amount of space exploration could make any less mysterious.
    His one great desire was to make his name as a serious astrologer , to have cabinet ministers and minor royalty consulting him before taking decisions. But gaining recognition was a long, slow process, and in the meantime the only outlet he had was turning out horoscopes for the Evening News while earning his living by supplying more earth-bound articles to the glossy Broadshire Life . He supposed there were worse compromises.
    Today , though, he must prepare next month’s batch of horoscopes, which were already overdue. He’d been putting off working on them because the portents were not promising; there was a whole cluster of