Gwendoline Butler - The Coffin Tree

GWENDOLINE BUTLER

HarperCollins Publishers

77–85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

http://www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollins Publishers 1994

Copyright © Gwendoline Butler 1994

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers 2014

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

The Author asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

All rights reserved. under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN: 9780006490289

Ebook Edition © JULY 2014 ISBN: 9780007545506

Version: 2014–07–04

Cover

Title Page GWENDOLINE BUTLER

Copyright Copyright Copyright Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Keep Reading About the Author Author’s Note Also by the Author About the Publisher HarperCollins Publishers 77–85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB http://www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 1994 Copyright © Gwendoline Butler 1994 Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers 2014 Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work All rights reserved. under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication. Source ISBN: 9780006490289 Ebook Edition © JULY 2014 ISBN: 9780007545506 Version: 2014–07–04

Prologue Prologue The Coffin Tree grew in London’s Second City. The upper branches had been struck by lightning several years ago, a blow that would have killed some trees, but this one struggled on, putting its strength into its lower branches. There were three great, thick, heavy branches, each one that could be cut down and made into planks. No one owned the tree …

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Keep Reading

About the Author

Author’s Note

Also by the Author

About the Publisher

The Coffin Tree grew in London’s Second City. The upper branches had been struck by lightning several years ago, a blow that would have killed some trees, but this one struggled on, putting its strength into its lower branches.

There were three great, thick, heavy branches, each one that could be cut down and made into planks.

No one owned the tree …

That hot summer when the old Docklands of London sweltered in the great heat and drought was talked of and people made jokes about the saint who sat on the gridiron, this was the summer when John Coffin walked his Second City of London and felt that life was unravelling about him.

He was seriously worried about the death of two young men, two detectives. The deaths were said to be accidental, but two accidents were two too many.

He walked and observed and distrusted far too many people; this was his burden at the moment, he was lonely and perturbed. Something had to be done and it was for him to do it.

When a new, smart and very expensive shop called Minimal opened in Calcutta Street which was the busiest street in Spinnergate, the locals didn’t know what to make of it.

Phoebe, who had inspected the area a week or so ago when she considered moving to London from Birmingham, had noticed the shop at once. It was in her nature to look over a district before she moved there (and she was almost certain that she would be doing so) and the Minimal shop caught her eye.

She was now moodily running over a rack of high priced shifts, watched by the manageress who wasn’t sure what she had in Phoebe. Rich lady incognito or shoplifter? That was Phoebe’s dark outfit with a large shoulder bag because she planned to stay the night.

Minimal certainly did not apply to the prices of the clothes sold there, she considered, wondering how many sales were made. It might describe the decor which was white and empty.

‘Not even a chair to sit on,’ as one of the girls from the chorus in the musical currently running at the Stella Pinero Theatre complained. ‘Not even a curtain to draw when you try on. Just that little bamboo screen which hides nothing … I don’t want everyone seeing me in my bra and pants for free … Let them pay and buy a ticket.’ The musical was not playing to full houses.

‘There is a curtain of sorts behind, Philly,’ said her friend, Eleanor. Eleanor Farmer was older than Phyllis Archer by a few months but they resembled each other in their long fair hair, blue eyes and neat footwork; not strictly pretty, they were good dancers. They were known as Ellie and Philly and regarded as almost twins; they always worked together if it was possible.

‘Net, net and full of holes.’

The holes were embroidered and pretty but you were certainly visible through them.

In spite of these drawbacks, both Ellie and Philly tried on several garments each with little intention of buying, although Ellie was tempted by a short tunic and flared trousers with a distinguished label, and Philly would certainly have bought the off-white Donna Karan body and skirt if she had not overused her credit card and been overdrawn at the bank.

But each of them bought a white cotton shirt, so they went out carrying the black on white Minimal carrier bag in triumph. The bags looked good slung over the shoulder.

It was a hot summer’s day and as they stepped outside, they sniffed the air. It didn’t smell so good, but little Londoners both, they were used to the strange city smells.