Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Last Supper

The Macbeth’s were staying in a rented cottage not far away from Dorsal Finn’s museum. The cottage was compact, yet consisted of many rooms that led away from a hallway made even smaller by wallpaper with deep purple flowers. There were many pictures dotted around the small wooden cupboards and dressers in the hall.

Beatrice noticed what she presumed to be images of the many stages of Alice Macbeth, one with raven hair and unblemished skin. Another had an image of a middle aged woman leaning on a cane with a moorland scene in the background.

‘Welcome, my dear,’ Macbeth said. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘Thank you, Ms Macbeth,’ Beatrice said politely despite her nervousness.

'Oh, call me Alice! Please go through to the lounge,’ Alice said gesturing with her hand to a door a few metres away. ‘Marcus is just putting together a little supper, seeing as we’ve brought our tea date forward a day or so.’

‘There really isn’t any need,’ Beatrice said, not