Then we can decide what to do next. I could also reveal that I am aware poor old Alf has not long to go.”
“Gus!” said Deirdre. “That is the most impractical, unprofessional and dishonest plan I have ever heard! What do you think, Ivy and Roy?”
Roy hesitated, and then said he rather agreed with Deirdre, though thought Gus should have top marks for ingenuity.
“And Ivy?”
“Ridiculous.” Ivy’s expression was one of lofty determination. “Let’s start again.”
• • •
IN A SILENT bedroom with the curtains drawn tightly across, Steven Wright slept a troubled sleep. With the aid of a double dose of aspirin and a glass of neat whisky, telling himself that he preferred a coma to the continuing pain and sickness of migraine, Steven Wright had finally fallen asleep.
S eventeen
GUS SAT IN his shabby little sitting room, reading the news. He had got up late, and taken Whippy across the Green to buy milk and the morning paper. When he got back, he had met Miriam, who was waiting for him in her front garden.
“Morning, old sleepyhead,” she had said, with a fond smile.
So I’m forgiven, Gus thought, and grinned at her. “Morning, Miss Blake, and a cold and frosty one, too.”
“That’s why I was looking out for you,” she had said. “The garden tap is completely iced up, and I know you use it for Whippy’s outside water bowl, so I’m offering to fill it up from my kitchen.”
“Thanks, but don’t bother. I can easily fill it from mine. Only a couple of yards farther to go! Do these cottages get frozen up inside? My winters here so far have not been too harsh, so no burst pipes.”
“You’ve been lucky. Several winters we’ve been frozen up. Have a look and make sure exposed pipes are lagged. Especially up in the roof. The Honourable Theo might have got it done before you moved in, though I doubt it. Poor as church mice, those Roussels. Are you free for lunch? I’ve made a huge Lancashire hot pot. It’ll last for days.”
“Then you won’t want me eating it up!”
“Oh, there’s plenty to go round. Half past twelve, then?”
Gus had been about to insist on refusal when he remembered his plan. Miriam had talked before about Susan Lowe and Alf, and now she might well know where the erring wife lived. Miriam knew a great deal about everybody who had ever lived in Barrington.
“Thanks very much,” he had said. “I’ll bring a bottle.”
Miriam shook her head. “Plenty of primrose left,” she had replied, and Gus groaned to himself. Miriam’s primrose wine was lethal, unless you were actually hoping for eight hours’ uninterrupted sleep.
• • •
IVY AND ROY had been up hours before, and Ivy was first in the breakfast room, staring fixedly at the kitchen hatch as if willing her morning porridge to appear. When Roy joined her, she announced in a loud voice that the service in Springfields was definitely going downhill.
“Didn’t sleep well, Ivy dear?” said Roy.
Ivy sighed. “No, I didn’t. I’m afraid I was awake half the night worrying about your nephew, Steven. If nothing worse, he sounds like a very unpleasant character. Are you sure you want him to be best man? Gus knows one or two unsavoury characters who could put the frighteners on him.”
“Ivy Beasley!” Roy looked horrified. “Steven is family, and I’m sure we can improve him by our wedding day. And really, he doesn’t have too much to do.”
“Oh, very well. I shall put him out of my mind, and leave him to you. I must get used to that, mustn’t I?”
“Yes,” answered Roy firmly.
“What shall we do today?” Ivy decided to change the subject. “Any ideas?”
“We could book our taxi and go shopping,” said Roy. “Or we could look at some of my family photographs, just to show you what an upright, God-fearing young man I was. Do you have any of your mother and father?”
Ivy shook her head. “I don’t remember photos being taken in our family. My mother wouldn’t have
“Gus!” said Deirdre. “That is the most impractical, unprofessional and dishonest plan I have ever heard! What do you think, Ivy and Roy?”
Roy hesitated, and then said he rather agreed with Deirdre, though thought Gus should have top marks for ingenuity.
“And Ivy?”
“Ridiculous.” Ivy’s expression was one of lofty determination. “Let’s start again.”
• • •
IN A SILENT bedroom with the curtains drawn tightly across, Steven Wright slept a troubled sleep. With the aid of a double dose of aspirin and a glass of neat whisky, telling himself that he preferred a coma to the continuing pain and sickness of migraine, Steven Wright had finally fallen asleep.
S eventeen
GUS SAT IN his shabby little sitting room, reading the news. He had got up late, and taken Whippy across the Green to buy milk and the morning paper. When he got back, he had met Miriam, who was waiting for him in her front garden.
“Morning, old sleepyhead,” she had said, with a fond smile.
So I’m forgiven, Gus thought, and grinned at her. “Morning, Miss Blake, and a cold and frosty one, too.”
“That’s why I was looking out for you,” she had said. “The garden tap is completely iced up, and I know you use it for Whippy’s outside water bowl, so I’m offering to fill it up from my kitchen.”
“Thanks, but don’t bother. I can easily fill it from mine. Only a couple of yards farther to go! Do these cottages get frozen up inside? My winters here so far have not been too harsh, so no burst pipes.”
“You’ve been lucky. Several winters we’ve been frozen up. Have a look and make sure exposed pipes are lagged. Especially up in the roof. The Honourable Theo might have got it done before you moved in, though I doubt it. Poor as church mice, those Roussels. Are you free for lunch? I’ve made a huge Lancashire hot pot. It’ll last for days.”
“Then you won’t want me eating it up!”
“Oh, there’s plenty to go round. Half past twelve, then?”
Gus had been about to insist on refusal when he remembered his plan. Miriam had talked before about Susan Lowe and Alf, and now she might well know where the erring wife lived. Miriam knew a great deal about everybody who had ever lived in Barrington.
“Thanks very much,” he had said. “I’ll bring a bottle.”
Miriam shook her head. “Plenty of primrose left,” she had replied, and Gus groaned to himself. Miriam’s primrose wine was lethal, unless you were actually hoping for eight hours’ uninterrupted sleep.
• • •
IVY AND ROY had been up hours before, and Ivy was first in the breakfast room, staring fixedly at the kitchen hatch as if willing her morning porridge to appear. When Roy joined her, she announced in a loud voice that the service in Springfields was definitely going downhill.
“Didn’t sleep well, Ivy dear?” said Roy.
Ivy sighed. “No, I didn’t. I’m afraid I was awake half the night worrying about your nephew, Steven. If nothing worse, he sounds like a very unpleasant character. Are you sure you want him to be best man? Gus knows one or two unsavoury characters who could put the frighteners on him.”
“Ivy Beasley!” Roy looked horrified. “Steven is family, and I’m sure we can improve him by our wedding day. And really, he doesn’t have too much to do.”
“Oh, very well. I shall put him out of my mind, and leave him to you. I must get used to that, mustn’t I?”
“Yes,” answered Roy firmly.
“What shall we do today?” Ivy decided to change the subject. “Any ideas?”
“We could book our taxi and go shopping,” said Roy. “Or we could look at some of my family photographs, just to show you what an upright, God-fearing young man I was. Do you have any of your mother and father?”
Ivy shook her head. “I don’t remember photos being taken in our family. My mother wouldn’t have
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