A Spider on the Stairs Read Free

connoisseur of fashion models, possibly it will have some impact. Wait a moment, is this the same diet my aunt Evelyn’s been on? She’s lost a good bit of weight lately, too.”
    â€œEveryone’s aunt and mother have been having a go at it,” said Daniel. “Well, except your mother, of course—she’s kept her figure. It’s some new American diet and it’s all the rage this year. Anyway, Mum’s worked hard at it, so do say something, eh?”
    â€œWill do,” promised Bethancourt. He finished his drink and reached for his dinner jacket. “I expect we’d better go down before they come to get us.”
    As if his words were prescient, there was a knock on the door, and when he opened it, his cousin Bernadette said, “Aunt Ellen says to come down and bring Daniel with you.”
    â€œWe’re coming,” said Bethancourt. “Right this moment. You with me, Daniel?”
    â€œYes,” said Daniel, rising from the armchair and buttoning his jacket. “Let’s go face the horde together.”
    Led by Bernadette, the two young men went to join the Christmas festivities.
    Gibbons settled into a seat on a train packed with holiday-goers and pulled out his mobile to check the time. The train was already late starting, and it was not due to get into York until half ten even had it been on time. In addition, they had not yet been able to find him any place to stay, York being an extremely popular destination for the holidays. This in Gibbons’s opinion did not bode wellfor wherever he ended up, which was likely to be a rather nasty B&B, if he was any judge. For the first time, he really felt the absence of a Christmas spent with his family in the warmth of the old house in Bedfordshire.
    With a sigh, he flicked over to his contact list and scrolled to Bethancourt’s number.
    His friend, when he answered, sounded rather tipsy.
    â€œJack!” he said. “Are you here yet?”
    â€œI’m on the train,” replied Gibbons, “but God only knows when we’ll get into York. I doubt I’ll get to view the scene of the crime until morning—I just thought I’d let you know.”
    â€œWell, in the fullness of time and all that,” said Bethancourt.
    â€œHow’s your holiday going?” asked Gibbons.
    â€œOh, well enough I suppose,” said Bethancourt. “I can’t say I feel very festive, but that would mostly be because each agonizing minute that passes feels like an eternity. I can only speak for myself, of course. My sister Margaret seems happy enough, in her usual humorless way. Not that I want to put you off coming for Christmas dinner.”
    â€œNot at all,” said Gibbons. “Is your father on about you finding a career again?”
    â€œHasn’t got to that yet,” replied Bethancourt. “They’re still in an uproar over Marla.”
    Gibbons frowned, puzzled. “Marla?” he said. “What’s she done? I didn’t know she was up there with you.”
    â€œGood God, of course she’s not,” said Bethancourt. “But Margaret saw fit to tell everyone at lunch that I was dating a dissipated fashion model—ironic, really, since I’m not anymore.”
    â€œWhat?” Gibbons straightened up in his seat, startling his neighbor. “What do you mean? Have you and Marla broken up again?”
    â€œI forgot you didn’t know,” said Bethancourt. “It happened at the last minute, before I had to head up here.”
    â€œBut what happened?” asked Gibbons.
    â€œIt was all quite tawdry,” said Bethancourt in a weary tone.“I’ll tell you later—I have to get back inside now before I’m missed. I only came out to smoke.”
    â€œAre you all right then, Phillip?” asked Gibbons, rather concerned.
    â€œTip-top,” said Bethancourt. “Never better and all that. Ring me when you get