"L. Lee Lowe - Mortal Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowe L Lee)

'Thanks for lunch,' he said, moving to help her.

'Leave it,' she said. 'You and Sarah can do supper, if you're still here.'

She stopped, the jug in her hand.

'Think about it, Jesse. A few days of rest. I think you need it.'

Her words splashing over the rocky bed of his mind, Jesse dug his hands into his pockets and walked out into
the garden. Sarah's mother watched him go, a troubled expression on her face.
Chapter 3 17

Chapter 3
Sarah had bought the dog a sturdy leather collar and lead. 'He's going to need a tag and chip, his shots. And
what about his name?'

'I told you,' Jesse said. 'It's not my dog.'

'He is now,' she said. 'What do you want to call him?'

Jesse shrugged. There wasn't much point thinking up a name unless Sarah's family would be willing to adopt
the dog.

'How about Anubis? We did Egyptian mythology last year in school.'

No way, thought Jesse. Even if he named the animal -- temporarily, mind you -- it would be Harry or Jinx.
Simple, ordinary, doggy.

The dog tugged on the lead, anxious to keep moving. They'd walked down the hill from Sarah's house and
were now in another part of the city. The townhouses were neat, upmarket, with little front gardens,
geranium-filled window boxes displayed like medals on a war hero's chest, and brightly painted doors and
window frames.

Sarah indicated a narrow lane almost hidden between two brick dwellings. 'Come on, I want to show you
something.'

She led him along the cobbled way towards a small stone chapel which had been converted into a residence
and workshop. A stone bench curved round the base of a towering chestnut tree. Mounted on the scrolls of the
wrought iron gate was an exquisitely hand-lettered sign: Sundials, it said. They stopped and leant on the fence
while Jesse studied the pieces, each bathed in the astringent green light. Once again he could smell the flush
of lavender on Sarah's skin.

'Brilliant, aren't they?' Sarah asked.

'They're wonderful,' Jesse said. 'Who makes them?'

'A friend of my mother's. She's not here at the moment, or we could say hello.'

Jesse pointed to a gilded greenslate sundial mounted on a plinth and set some distance from the others. 'That's