The Spring Cleaning Murders (33 page)
“Jonas?” I didn’t want to startle him; he looked so peaceful with his battered old hat and Abigail’s book lying open in his lap. He must have dozed off while leafing through it as he often did, when he wasn’t busy mixing up a batch of her furniture polish. “I didn’t see you at first”—still keeping my voice low—”this chair has a high back and with it being turned to face the window…”
He did not hear me. I knew before I touched his hand that Jonas would never hear me again. He had slipped away without saying good-bye. A wave of desolation swept over me as I knelt beside his chair and rested my face against his knee. Life would never be the same without him. I wanted to shake him, ask him if he had forgotten that he was needed here. Wanted to tell him that little Rose was entitled to more time with him. And then something strange happened. The emptiness inside me filled with the golden glow cast by that narrow rectangle of mirror.
Getting up, I opened the window and leaned out into a breeze that smelled of wallflowers. I could see my family down below in the garden. Ben stood under the copper beech with Rose in his arms. He was smiling at Tam and Abbey, who capered in circles while watching Freddy unleash the faded kite into the clear blue sky. For a moment it seemed doubtful, almost fearful of taking flight. But then that old kite soared eagerly, joyously towards the sky, straining to touch the sun until its string broke free, and I smiled through my tears as I watched it vanish into the heavens.
To my son Jason, who by always asking for his own, personal bedtime story, kept the hope alive that I would one day be a writer
Copyright © 1998 by Dorothy Cannell
Originally published by Viking/Penguin (ISBN 978-0140276152)
Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
