Runaway Sister Read Free Page B

spooky around here, with all the lights from the boats on the canal—it looks like something out of a film set. I can just imagine a murder being done here.”
    â€œAn overactive imagination, that’s what you’ve got,” replied John matter-of-factly as he locked the car doors. “Come on, you two. How you can say it’s spooky,” he said turning to Jennie, “with all that racket from Roger’s boat, I just can’t imagine.”
    Samantha agreed. “Pop music blaring out at goodness knows how many decibels isn’t exactly spooky,” she remarked.
    Roger’s boat was a blaze of lights and as Samantha had remarked, the music was turned up to an earsplitting level, but even so the sound of people laughing and talking and the clink of glasses could be heard. Samantha hoped the music wasn’t going to be that loud all the time; in her present frame of mind she knew it wouldn’t take much to give her a splitting headache.
    She lost her nerve and felt like turning and running away. It had been a ghastly mistake to come. Everyone would be jolly and laughing, and she didn’t feel in the least like being jolly and laughing, and it was going to be one hell of an effort to pretend she did. But it was too late; she was there, no way could she escape now. It was with a heavy heart that she crossed the wooden gangplank across the murky, still water of the canal and climbed down the few wooden steps into the barge.
    A cacophony of sound hit them like a physical force as they stepped into the interior of the barge. Roger saw them enter and waved cheerily at them as he came over.
    â€œWhat will you have to drink?” he shouted above the deafening noise from the hi-fi.
    â€œGod, this is too noisy, Roger,” complained John, never one to mince his words.
    â€œIs it?” Roger looked surprised, his ears had obviously grown accustomed to it. “Well, go and have a word with Duncan over there, he’s in charge of the sound tonight.”
    â€œI certainly will,” said John, marching off purposefully in Duncan’s direction.
    â€œNow, girls, what will you have?” continued Roger. “There’s red or white plonk, a rather dubious punch with a hefty kick to it made by me, and the usual assortment of martinis and vermouths, etc.”
    Both Jennie and Samantha opted for white wine; they had been to Roger’s parties before and when he said the punch had a hefty kick it was usually an understatement. It meant having a hangover for about a week afterwards.
    John returned to them, a glass of lager in his hand. He had succeeded in persuading Duncan to turn the music down a little, but not much.
    â€œYou’d never think he intends to make ENT his specialty,” grumbled John. “You would think he’d know what damage that noise must be doing to everyone’s eardrums.”
    â€œHe’s very young,” replied Samantha, excusing Duncan, who was an extremely likeable if a trifle overenthusiastic young man. “Young people always seem to like their music loud.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, young?” queried John indignantly. “We’re not geriatric yet, I might remind you. Although if Duncan has his way we shall all be needing hearing aids before we reach the age of thirty.”
    â€œOh, John, you do exaggerate!” laughed Jennie.
    â€œWhat’s that you’re saying, m’dear?” quavered John in an old man’s voice, cupping his hand around his ear.
    â€œYou heard,” replied Jennie, giving him an affectionate thump in the stomach.
    The barge was becoming more and more crowded by the minute as droves of people from the hospital began to arrive. Suddenly Samantha was aware of two of John’s friends whom she only knew slightly bearing down on them.
    â€œCongratulations, you two,” they boomed. “Best news we’ve heard this year! When is the happy day actually going to