the point
of leaving for home with his son Jamie who was wearing a patch over
one eye. Fenton asked how the boy had got on at the hospital.
"The surgeons decided that they
should delay operating until he's a little older, maybe next year."
said Grant.
Fenton looked down at the
little boy who was staring up at the plasters on Fenton's face. It
was as if they both suddenly realised that they had a lot in common
and an instant rapport was struck. Fenton bent down and asked the
boy about the toy fire engine that he was carrying.
Grant looked at his watch and
announced that he and Jamie would have to be off. He thanked Jenny
and shook Fenton's hand before ushering Jamie out the door.
Jenny closed the door and
looked at Fenton. "You should still be in hospital," she
accused.
Fenton smiled and said, "It's
good to be home."
Jenny kissed him. "It's good
having you home."
By the following Wednesday
Fenton was climbing the wall with boredom. Still confined to the
flat he made endless cups of tea, pacing up and down between times
with occasional pauses to look out at the rain. He telephoned
Charles Tyson at the lab to be told that he was out at a meeting.
He did speak to Ian Ferguson for a while but ran out of things to
say after being assured that the lab was coping well despite his
absence.
In mid- afternoon Fenton
answered a ring of the door-bell to find Nigel Saxon standing
there.
"How's the invalid?" asked
Saxon.
The conversation, as most
conversations involving Saxon usually did, degenerated into talk of
women, cars and booze but it did cheer Fenton up and made him smile
for the first time in days. In addition Saxon announced that he was
giving a dinner party for everyone in the lab to celebrate the
successful conclusion to trials on the Saxon Analyser.
"When?" asked Fenton.
"Saturday evening."
"Where?"
"The Grange Hotel. It's not too
far from the lab so the duty staff will be within bleeper range and
can flit back and forth if necessary.
Jenny arrived home with the
news that she would be going on night duty after the week end. "But
I'm off all this week end," she added in response to Fenton's
expression.
"Good, then we can go to the
party." said Fenton. He told her about Saxon's invitation.
On Friday morning Fenton
visited his general practitioner to be declared fit to return to
work. Having had no need of a doctor in the past year he had
neglected to re-register with a practitioner nearer his home and so
had to cross town to the doctor he had originally been listed with
when he had first arrived in the city.
Was this really the system
envied by the world? he wondered as he sat in a crowded room
surrounded by peeling wall paper and coughing people. The windows
hadn't been cleaned for decades by the look of them and there was a
strong smell of cats' urine about the place. Three back copies of
Punch, a two minute consultation and he was free of the system but
not the despondency it inspired.
The return bus took an age to
cross town and Fenton had to keep clearing the window with his
sleeve to see where he was for the atmosphere on the top deck was
heavy and damp and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. A fat woman,
weighed down with shopping bags plumped herself down beside him,
her face glowing with the exertion of having climbed the stairs.
The smell of sweat mingling with the tobacco proved to be the last
straw for Fenton. He got off at the next stop and walked through
the rain; he was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the
flat.
CHAPTER FIVE
The party at the Grange Hotel was a disaster. But then, as
Fenton reasoned afterwards, it was always going to be in the
circumstances. Their host, Nigel Saxon, tried his best to foster a
spirit of light-heartedness and jollity and the generosity of the
company in terms of food and drink could not be faulted but Neil
Munro and Susan Daniels were just too conspicuous by their absence.
In addition the knowledge that the killer had not yet been
identified was still
of leaving for home with his son Jamie who was wearing a patch over
one eye. Fenton asked how the boy had got on at the hospital.
"The surgeons decided that they
should delay operating until he's a little older, maybe next year."
said Grant.
Fenton looked down at the
little boy who was staring up at the plasters on Fenton's face. It
was as if they both suddenly realised that they had a lot in common
and an instant rapport was struck. Fenton bent down and asked the
boy about the toy fire engine that he was carrying.
Grant looked at his watch and
announced that he and Jamie would have to be off. He thanked Jenny
and shook Fenton's hand before ushering Jamie out the door.
Jenny closed the door and
looked at Fenton. "You should still be in hospital," she
accused.
Fenton smiled and said, "It's
good to be home."
Jenny kissed him. "It's good
having you home."
By the following Wednesday
Fenton was climbing the wall with boredom. Still confined to the
flat he made endless cups of tea, pacing up and down between times
with occasional pauses to look out at the rain. He telephoned
Charles Tyson at the lab to be told that he was out at a meeting.
He did speak to Ian Ferguson for a while but ran out of things to
say after being assured that the lab was coping well despite his
absence.
In mid- afternoon Fenton
answered a ring of the door-bell to find Nigel Saxon standing
there.
"How's the invalid?" asked
Saxon.
The conversation, as most
conversations involving Saxon usually did, degenerated into talk of
women, cars and booze but it did cheer Fenton up and made him smile
for the first time in days. In addition Saxon announced that he was
giving a dinner party for everyone in the lab to celebrate the
successful conclusion to trials on the Saxon Analyser.
"When?" asked Fenton.
"Saturday evening."
"Where?"
"The Grange Hotel. It's not too
far from the lab so the duty staff will be within bleeper range and
can flit back and forth if necessary.
Jenny arrived home with the
news that she would be going on night duty after the week end. "But
I'm off all this week end," she added in response to Fenton's
expression.
"Good, then we can go to the
party." said Fenton. He told her about Saxon's invitation.
On Friday morning Fenton
visited his general practitioner to be declared fit to return to
work. Having had no need of a doctor in the past year he had
neglected to re-register with a practitioner nearer his home and so
had to cross town to the doctor he had originally been listed with
when he had first arrived in the city.
Was this really the system
envied by the world? he wondered as he sat in a crowded room
surrounded by peeling wall paper and coughing people. The windows
hadn't been cleaned for decades by the look of them and there was a
strong smell of cats' urine about the place. Three back copies of
Punch, a two minute consultation and he was free of the system but
not the despondency it inspired.
The return bus took an age to
cross town and Fenton had to keep clearing the window with his
sleeve to see where he was for the atmosphere on the top deck was
heavy and damp and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. A fat woman,
weighed down with shopping bags plumped herself down beside him,
her face glowing with the exertion of having climbed the stairs.
The smell of sweat mingling with the tobacco proved to be the last
straw for Fenton. He got off at the next stop and walked through
the rain; he was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the
flat.
CHAPTER FIVE
The party at the Grange Hotel was a disaster. But then, as
Fenton reasoned afterwards, it was always going to be in the
circumstances. Their host, Nigel Saxon, tried his best to foster a
spirit of light-heartedness and jollity and the generosity of the
company in terms of food and drink could not be faulted but Neil
Munro and Susan Daniels were just too conspicuous by their absence.
In addition the knowledge that the killer had not yet been
identified was still
Similar Books
