Nomance, T Price [bookreader .TXT] 📗

older customers almost swooned in thetorrid atmosphere and she glimpsed the tantalising possibility thatone or two might pass away through heat exhaustion, thus providingRomance with gratifying funeral orders.

She would keep the heatup.

Turning, she went tothe bathroom to douse her face in cold water. Then she stood by theopened window to luxuriate in the breeze. Feeling fresher, she wentdownstairs and took the secateurs from the cutlery draw beforegoing back into the shop.

First she cleared themess away that Juliet had caused, and then she set about pruningthe miniature roses on their trestle opposite the Green.

From time to time shewould go to the door to check on the street. Her anxiety aboutJuliet nagged her, yet she refused to give into the temptation ofclosing the shop. She had to admit locking up would give her nervesa rest, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. If an oldcustomer couldn’t get in and die of heat exhaustion she would neverbe able to forgive herself.

Oh no, Carla had lettoo many glittering prizes slip through her fingers before now. Theshop must stay open.

A half hour passedquicky, as it always did when she dwelt on her customers’ funerals. . .

She couldn’t rememberwhen she’d stopped pruning, but she found herself staring intospace, her secateurs poised, inactive in her hand.

Somehow, a dreamlikelonging to go upstairs and look at Porchester had stolen over her.Carla fought the impulse, but it refused to let her alone. At last,she banged the secateurs down on the trestle and galumphed back upto her bedroom. She was beginning worry about the state of hermind. No doubt about it, Juliet’s persecution was taking itstoll.

Porchester wasasleep.

And now Carla wasafraid.

She had beendisappointed that he wasn’t awake!

But having the kidunconscious should have been ideal. It meant she didn’t have to gothrough the motions of paying it any attention.

What the fuck’s goingon?

She went up to the cotand looked down at the child. Her heart shot into her mouth.

It had happened again –that unaccountable shift in reality, when for a second or two thelittle fellow didn’t look like a bag of cash.

She shrank away andstood for a while, uncertain about what to do next. Glancing at theclock on her bedside table she saw that soon Porchester would needfeeding. That was something to grab onto. When the kid startedscreaming to be fed she would soon get back to wanting to sellit.

She went downstairs tothe kitchen and put the kettle on. Still troubled, she returned tothe shop, so as to finish the pruning.

She came to an abrupthalt in front of the trestle.

The secateurs weregone!

Carla stifled a scream,whirled round and backed against the trestle, making it scrape overthe tiled floor.

The shop was profoundlyquiet. The thick, glossy foliage of the Green drooped beforeher in slumbering menace. One sinister shape laid over another tocreate a dark, feral core. Juliet was in there, she knew –watching.

Sweat stung Carla’sskin like needles. She threw the shop door a glance and judged shecould reach it in a couple of bounds. The cluster of palms at thewindow were too thick to allow an easy ambush. She could just makeit. With any luck.

Carla, snorting raggedbreaths through her nostrils, forced herself to move. She began toshuffle, one foot after the other, edging bit by bit towards . . .the counter!

She almost wept at herstupidity. Some nightmarish and perverse instinct was driving herto protect Porchester. The rational part of her mind was beggingher to forget the money and save her life instead. To no avail. Shekept going, back and back and back – into the jaws of death. Atevery step she expected the steel blades to flash out of the greenand sink themselves into her exposed and helpless flesh. As sheneared the last of the larger palms, where concealment was stillpossible, the attack seemed inevitable. By then, Carla could onlyjust about stand up, let alone walk.

A palm frond shook. Shescreeched. All at once she could move again. She broke for thecounter.

Where Juliet waswaiting for her.

The madwoman leapt frombehind the cash register, one arm scything through the air with thesecateurs. Carla felt a deep, electric shock of pain pierce herleft shoulder and she screamed. Juliet raised the secateurs again.Carla pushed herself away from the counter and staggered backwards,coming to a stop as terror and shock drained the last of her willpower.

Juliet contemplated herfrom behind the counter, the secateurs frozen above her head. For asingle moment her livid face flickered with horror . . . then itwas gone, leaving nothing but an insane rage.

She charged.

Paralysed, Carlawatched Juliet bound through the gap in the opened counter. In thesame instant there was a hollow thump as her foot caught the tub offertiliser that Carla kept forgetting to move from the entrance tothe counter and, in a comical succession of slow, clumsy movements,Juliet sank down and hit the floor with a loud slap.

The secateurs clatteredfrom her hand.

Carla looked down atJuliet, prone and face-down at her feet and without having to thinkabout it she plucked up one of the largest potted roses from thetrestle and positioned it above the back of Juliet’s skull. A sobof utter despair rose up from below and Juliet began to stir. Carlalet the pot go.

There was a dullexplosion. Shards of ceramic flickered in all directions and acloud of fine compost enveloped Juliet’s head and shoulders.

Her body jerked,shuddered and was still.

Carla kicked the tub offertilizer out of the way and pulled Juliet along the floor tillshe had got her out of sight, behind the counter. Next she securedJuliet’s arms and legs with gaffer tape – she kept a roll on ashelf under the till – and added a strip across her mouth, beingcareful to avoid blocking the thin nostrils of Juliet’saristocratic nose. She didn’t want a death on her hands. Andanyway, there was no way Juliet’s family would hire Romanceto provide the flowers for her funeral. Even so, the notion tickledher and Carla couldn’t help chuckling to herself as she draggedJuliet out into the hallway of the house. From there, at least, thecustomers wouldn’t be able hear Juliet’s muffled groans when shewoke up.

Only now did she callthe