Justine and the Midnight Catechism by Ruth Hay

Tamsin Preston, my estate agent for the sale, was similarly close-mouthed whenever reporters came by. Neither Estelle nor Oliver Rosyth admitted to knowing my whereabouts. My mother’s husband set up a bank account for me in which, eventually, a sum of money will be deposited to cover the loss of property when the excavations of the Egyptian artifacts caused the house’s collapse. Once the building was declared unsafe because of the collapse of the major part of it, I was on my way to Exeter with my cats and as far as the authorities were concerned, I disappeared. The past three months have been frantic and filled with stress.ĭespite considerable public interest in the house called Journey’s End, we managed to escape without being connected to the events that derived from the house’s deep and complex past history. I begin to have hopes that he can work that kind of magic on me. He has a way with animals that may not be equal to my instinctive insights, but he has a deep voice that soothes the most frightened creatures and the beautiful tender touch in his hands that comforts and can diagnose, as well as heal, hidden injuries.

With his red hair and beard and those magnetic green eyes, he is remarkable in appearance. Of course, Doctor Daniel Hudson is no ordinary vet, or ordinary man for that matter. So, given this unsatisfactory background history, what am I doing planning to set up house in England with my three cats and an in-house vet? I did meet a very interesting man called Mark in Canada, while I was being evaluated for my psychic capabilities, but I never pursued that connection. There was a brief dalliance with Jackson in Scotland, that was more medical than romantic as he was the masseur sent to help me with my injured leg. There was an early marriage in Canada with Shawn Jordan, that fell apart fairly quickly. I have never had any difficulty in finding cats.įor example, at the moment I have three of them around my feet.įinding a man who could be an asset in my strange life, has not been quite so simple.

Justine and the Midnight Catechism by Ruth Hay