A severe weather warning had been issued – a big storm was on its way. No helicopter was safe to fly; no boat was safe to sail. So the police couldn’t make their way across from the mainland to investigate. We were cut off from outside help: stuck miles from anywhere in a gothic mansion with a murderer on the loose. I didn’t say a word about the rope. Not there on the cliffs. I just coiled it and stuffed it in the rucksack with the rest of the gear. Because I thought that whoever had cut it would probably do something nasty to me if they thought I knew. So I kept my head down and my mouth shut, and pretended I hadn’t noticed. But when I got a chance to talk to Graham alone, I grabbed it. The grown-ups were busy. Mike and Cathy were in the office dealing with the emergency. Isabella had apparently gone to lie down. Donald was cooking lunch. The kids were confined to the sitting room and everyone seemed too upset to talk. I announced I needed the toilet and disappeared out through the door with the smallest of glances in Graham’s direction.
What do You think about Mondays Are Murder (2011)?
