Read Palmer-Jones 03 - Murder in Paradise for Free Online Page B

Mary,” Jim said. “It seems that she’s gone missing. I expect she’s back at Sandwick. Sandy’s gone to look.”
    But she was not at Sandwick and there was no more dancing.
    George Palmer-Jones could not enter into the spirit of the celebration. He had been to parties on Kinness before and had always enjoyed them, but tonight he found the earthy speeches, the boisterous contact, strangely shocking.
    How pagan they are still, he thought, as Alec swung his partner about him, exposing a layer of underskirt and a stockinged leg. They pretend to be Christian, but when they’ve had a few drinks, they still behave like loutish Norsemen.
    He wondered how much of his disenchantment was caused by his lack of decision over his future. He had retired. Why should he again put himself into a position when his time was not his own? How could lie indulge in? his passion for ornithology if someone else was paying him to work for them? He was determined that he would come to a decision by the end of the holiday, and seemed unable to put the problem from his mind.
    Sylvia got up to dance with Sandy. She smiled at George as she made her way on to the floor. He took no notice of her. He knew that she wanted him to dance with her and that she thought he was being unfriendly. Let her think what she liked. If she wanted to make a spectacle of herself that was her business. He preferred to be a little dignified.
    The chairs and tables had been moved to the sides of the room to prepare for the dancing, and he sat, squashed in a comer by a pile of coats. He was still sitting there when Mary found him. She held by the hand a thin, pale boy of about six or seven.
    “This is Ben,” Mary said. “He’s come to stay on the island, at the post office. His mummy’s called Elspeth.”
    George said unconvincingly that he was pleased to meet Ben.
    “I can’t tell you my secret yet,” she said. “ It wouldn’t be a secret if Ben heard it, and he doesn’t like being on his own. You haven’t forgotten that you promised to dance with me?”
    “No,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ll dance with you later. Not now though.”
    She seemed satisfied with that and dragged Ben away.
    Suddenly George felt irritated by his own churlishness and he stood up. He went to sit by Jonathan Drysdale, the only other guest who seemed not to be participating with any pretence of enjoyment. Sylvia was dancing now with Kenneth Dance, and was moving as deftly and gracefully as any of the island women. The two men watched her for a moment. She knew that she was being watched, and enjoyed it.
    “You don’t dance, then?” George asked, for something to say.
    “No. I don’t seem to be able to get the hang of it.”
    “Sylvia’s very good.”
    “Yes.” He seemed please by the compliment to his wife, then said: “ She says that there’s nothing else to do here.”
    “She’s not happy on Kinness?”
    “She was at first. She was the one who was most keen to live here. She’s always been very interested in crafts. That was her subject. At art school. She had all sorts of notions of having a small workshop, perhaps with a loom, doing her own spinning and dyeing, but it never came off.”
    “Why was that?”
    “I’m not quite sure. There were a lot of obstacles. The islanders were very wary of outsiders. That was seven years ago, and they were even more narrow-minded then than they are now. They thought that we were wicked because we wouldn’t go to church. Things have changed a bit. At first I thought Maggie was quite enlightened. She had a few new ideas, and because she was one of the family they had to listen to her. But even she’s caused problems lately. It’s hard going at times.”
    “Have you thought of leaving?”
    “Yes, of course I’ve considered it. But I’m in the middle of a study of the black guillemots.” For the first time since he had arrived on the island George saw Drysdale show some animation. “I’ll need at least another