Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz Page A

said. ‘How are you? How is Frances?’
    ‘Oh. She’s all right. She’s up in London … shopping.’
    There was another awkward pause. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’ Clarissa asked. Perhaps this was a social visit. She couldn’t think of any other reason for her brother to be here.
    ‘That would be nice. Yes. What have you got?’
    ‘I have some sherry.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    Magnus sat down. Clarissa went over to the corner cupboard and took out a bottle. It had been there since Christmas. Did sherry go off? She poured two glasses, sniffed them, then carried them over. ‘I was sorry to hear about the burglary,’ she said.
    Magnus shrugged. ‘Yes. It wasn’t a nice thing to come home to.’
    ‘When did you get back from France?’
    ‘Saturday evening. We walked in and found the whole place ransacked. It was that damn fool Brent, not fixing up the back door. I’m glad I’ve got rid of him. He’d been getting on my nerves for a while now. Not a bad gardener but I never did like his attitude.’
    ‘Have you fired him?’
    ‘I think it’s time he moved on.’
    Clarissa sipped her sherry. It clung to her lip as if reluctant to enter her mouth. ‘I heard you lost some of the silver.’
    ‘Most of it, actually. To tell you the truth, it’s been a bit of a trying time – what with everything else.’
    ‘You mean, Mary Blakiston.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I was sorry not to see you at the funeral.’
    ‘I know. It’s a shame. I didn’t know …’
    ‘I thought the vicar wrote to you.’
    ‘He did – but I didn’t get his note until it was too late. Bloody French post office. Actually, that was what I wanted to talk to you about.’ He hadn’t touched his sherry. He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Do you like it here?’
    The question took her by surprise. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, and then more determinedly, ‘Actually, I’m very happy here.’
    ‘Are you?’ He made it sound as if he didn’t believe her.
    ‘Well, yes.’
    ‘Because, the thing is, you see, the Lodge House is empty now …’
    ‘You mean the Lodge House at Pye Hall?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And you want me to move in?’
    ‘I was thinking about it on the plane home. It’s a damn shame about Mary Blakiston. I was very fond of her, you know. She was a good cook, a good housekeeper but above all she was discreet. When I heard about this bloody accident, I knew she was going to be very hard to replace. And then I thought about you …’
    Clarissa felt a cold shudder run the length of her body. ‘Magnus, are you offering me her job?’
    ‘Why not? You’ve hardly worked since you got back from America. I’m sure the school doesn’t pay you very much and you could probably use the cash. If you moved into the Lodge House, you could sell this place and you might enjoy being back in the hall. You remember, you and me chasing around the lake? Croquet on the lawn! Of course, I’d have to talk about it with Frances. I haven’t mentioned it to her yet. I thought I’d sound you out first. What do you say?’
    ‘Can I think about it?’
    ‘Absolutely. It was just a thought but it might actually work out very well.’ He lifted his glass, had second thoughts and put it down again. ‘Always good to see you, Clara. It would be marvellous if you moved back in.’
    Somehow she managed to show him to the door and stood there watching as he climbed into his Jaguar and drove away. Clarissa’s breath was not coming easily. Even speaking to him had taken a gigantic effort. She felt wave after wave of nausea spreading through her. There was no feeling in her hands. She had heard the expression ‘numb with anger’ but she had never realised it could be a reality.
    He had offered her a job, working as his skivvy. Mopping floors and doing the washing up – dear God! She was his sister. She had been born in that house. She had lived there until she was in her twenties, eating the same food as him. She had only