Read Buried in Cornwall for Free Online

the player. Against the longest wall was a dining-table made of oak, with matching chairs. It was second-hand but had cost more than the modern equivalent they had looked at. Basic wooden shelving, made by Daniel, held their numerous books. At the bottom were the heavier, glossy tomes containing pictures of the great works of artists and sculptors. Above were dictionaries and reference books, while the top three shelves held novels. It was an eclectic collection. Many of the paperbacks were Penguins with their original covers and priced at half a crown or less. The edges of the pages were orange with age and the books still retained the smell peculiar to the roughish paper on which they were printed.
    The kitchen was small and adjoined this room. It was extremely functional, space being ata premium, and had been designed by a seafaring friend who had worked within the limitations of a ship’s galley. The bedroom and bathroom had not required much improvement; the latter some modernisation, the former only redecoration. The previous occupants, who had carried out the initial conversion, had had their main rooms downstairs.
    The gallery ran the length and breadth of the building with only a small cubicle blocked off for office-work and a kitchenette alongside it. A selection of Stella’s new paintings, carefully framed and kept from the public eye, were now hanging on the walls and the six-foot removable partitions she had erected down the centre. Daniel had placed an order with the wine merchant, hired glasses and made sure there was at least one spare corkscrew and some whisky for those who didn’t drink wine. There were also soft drinks and plates of food which were covered in foil and waiting in the fridge. There had been produced by Julie Trevaskith, the daughter of Molly who did their cleaning. Julie was at Cornwall College learning the catering trade. To earn some spending money she helped out in the gallery during the holidays.
    ‘Want to go for a walk, burn off some of thatnervous energy?’ Daniel asked, irritated by her restless pacing.
    ‘No.’ Stella shook her head, causing the straight black hair, cut to chin length, to swing. It looked unnatural, it was as dark as a string of jet beads except for a shock of grey springing from the crown. She was lean and willowy and dressed mainly in black but always with some splash of brilliance. Today, over the black ski-pants and satin tunic top she had slung a shawl of scarlet and emerald. The green was reflected in the huge ear-rings which dangled against her neck. She looked at Daniel and smiled. ‘I know you’re doing your best, I can’t help it.’
    He smiled back, wondering how a woman with slightly crooked teeth and a bit of a squint could be so sexy. Apart from her lissom body, there was something about her face which made men look twice. Maybe it was the bone structure or the fact that the two flaws, if they could be so called, cancelled each other out. It did not matter that her breasts were small, the whole effect added up to a beauty similar to that of a panther. Daniel wanted to take her to bed right then but she was too uptight to contemplate an act which might actually relieve her tension.
    ‘I’ve asked a few people for drinks before we officially open.’
    He liked the way she said ‘we’ although it was her gallery and her work on show. He tended to exclude her from his own artistic efforts, not letting her see anything until it was finished. Stella was far better at sharing than himself. ‘Who’s coming?’
    ‘Maddy, Jenny, Barbara and Mike and Rose.’ She counted them off on her fingers.
    ‘No Nick?’
    ‘He can’t make it until later.’ Stella smiled her feline smile. ‘I didn’t tell Rose he was coming.’
    ‘She’ll know, won’t she? I thought they were seeing each other.’
    ‘They are, as you put it, seeing each other, but I think that’s as far as it goes. Don’t start matchmaking.’ She pointed a slender finger at him.