Past Secrets [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONEIf a road could look welcoming, then Summer Street had both arms out and the kettle boiling.Christie Devlin had lived halfway up the street for exactly thirty years in a small but exquisite red-bricked house that gleamed like a jewel in a necklace of pretty coloured stones.Summer Street itself was curved and ran for half a mile from the crossroads where the café sat opposite a house which had once been a strawberry-ice-cream shade and was now a faded dusky pink.From the moment Christie had seen the graceful curve of the street, where maple trees arched like kindly aunties over the pavement, she'd known: this was the place she and James could raise their family.Those thirty years had gone in a flash, Christie thought on this beautiful late-April morning as she went about her chores, tidying, dusting, sweeping and wiping.Today the sun streamed in through the windows, the house seemed filled with quiet contentment and Christie didn't have to go to work. She loved her job as an art teacher at St Ursula's secondary school, but she'd cut back her hours recently and was relishing the extra free time.1