would be leaving at first light.
Mrs Collinson got up from her chair and retrieved her teeth, and with them something of her dignity. She was putting on her dressing gown to go after her husband when she spotted the open window and, on the floor beneath it, a bloom of climbing hydrangea. A closer look out of the window, this time with the aid of a torch she kept on her bedside table, showed her a branch hanging away from the stem. It had obviously been broken by someone making their way up the main stem which was unusually thick. Mrs Collinson rushed into the spare room.
‘What do you want, damn you?’ her husbanddemanded. ‘Don’t imagine for one moment I’ll change my mind. I’m going to get that divorce and …’
‘I want you to come out into the garden and look at something.’
‘In the garden? At this time of night?’
‘That’s what I said. I’ve found something that will stop you making any more of a fool of yourself.’
‘Oh, all right, but it isn’t going to help you,’ he grumbled.
They went downstairs and round the side of the house to the climbing hydrangea where she shone the torch on the broken branch.
‘How did that break, do you think? And another question. How did this get into our bedroom?’ She showed him the bloom. ‘Tell me that.’ Oh, yes, she wasn’t a headmistress for nothing!
Her husband shook his head.
‘God only knows. Perhaps your lover boy …’
‘Are you saying he climbed up? If you are, let’s see if you can,’ she said. ‘Go on. Don’t just stand there.’
But Mr Collinson was feeling the main stem and knew there was no way a full-grown man could climb up it without ripping the hydrangea off the wall. He turned back to face her.
‘Are you suggesting one of your girls did it? I mean, where on earth could they have got those pants, not to mention that filthy condom? And why on earth would they?’
‘I have no idea, and frankly I hate to think. ButI hope you’re satisfied now that I haven’t been having an affair. Can’t you see that I’d have been mad to have left the evidence in our bed?’
They went back into the house where Mr Collinson made a shame-faced apology and then helped himself to a whisky and soda.
More practically, Mrs Collinson went to the boot cupboard and took out a pair of gym shoes.
‘I’m going down to the dormitories to see if anyone’s giggling,’ she told him as she went out of the front door. ‘I’ve my own suspicions as to who did this. And, by God, if I’m right those disgusting girls won’t know what’s hit them.’
Five miles away, a naked young man who had wasted several hours in the darkness, searching for his clothes, was cycling home, painfully and without any lights, when he was stopped by a police car. He’d already been spotted by several drivers, three of them middle-aged women who’d used their mobiles to phone the police and inform them that there was a naked flasher on a bike in the vicinity. Unfortunately two of them had driven past as he’d been relieving himself into a hedge.
Rounding a sharp corner, he found his way blocked by a police car. Twenty minutes later, strategically covered by a blanket, he was being questioned by a thoroughly bad-tempered Inspector who’d had his car windows smashed the night before by hooligans andregarded all young men as swine. Naked ones riding bikes without lights at ten o’clock at night, and pissing with complete abandon into hedges, came into an even worse category.
‘So you’d been having sex with some slut and couldn’t remember where you had left your clothes, is that what you’re saying?’ he asked belligerently.
‘No, I’ve told you, I went for a swim …’
‘In the nude. Right?’
‘All right, naked, in the river. I’d left my clothes on the bank. There’s no law against that, and there was no one about that I could see.’
‘So they just disappeared of their own accord, I suppose?’
The young man sighed.
‘Of course they
Mrs Collinson got up from her chair and retrieved her teeth, and with them something of her dignity. She was putting on her dressing gown to go after her husband when she spotted the open window and, on the floor beneath it, a bloom of climbing hydrangea. A closer look out of the window, this time with the aid of a torch she kept on her bedside table, showed her a branch hanging away from the stem. It had obviously been broken by someone making their way up the main stem which was unusually thick. Mrs Collinson rushed into the spare room.
‘What do you want, damn you?’ her husbanddemanded. ‘Don’t imagine for one moment I’ll change my mind. I’m going to get that divorce and …’
‘I want you to come out into the garden and look at something.’
‘In the garden? At this time of night?’
‘That’s what I said. I’ve found something that will stop you making any more of a fool of yourself.’
‘Oh, all right, but it isn’t going to help you,’ he grumbled.
They went downstairs and round the side of the house to the climbing hydrangea where she shone the torch on the broken branch.
‘How did that break, do you think? And another question. How did this get into our bedroom?’ She showed him the bloom. ‘Tell me that.’ Oh, yes, she wasn’t a headmistress for nothing!
Her husband shook his head.
‘God only knows. Perhaps your lover boy …’
‘Are you saying he climbed up? If you are, let’s see if you can,’ she said. ‘Go on. Don’t just stand there.’
But Mr Collinson was feeling the main stem and knew there was no way a full-grown man could climb up it without ripping the hydrangea off the wall. He turned back to face her.
‘Are you suggesting one of your girls did it? I mean, where on earth could they have got those pants, not to mention that filthy condom? And why on earth would they?’
‘I have no idea, and frankly I hate to think. ButI hope you’re satisfied now that I haven’t been having an affair. Can’t you see that I’d have been mad to have left the evidence in our bed?’
They went back into the house where Mr Collinson made a shame-faced apology and then helped himself to a whisky and soda.
More practically, Mrs Collinson went to the boot cupboard and took out a pair of gym shoes.
‘I’m going down to the dormitories to see if anyone’s giggling,’ she told him as she went out of the front door. ‘I’ve my own suspicions as to who did this. And, by God, if I’m right those disgusting girls won’t know what’s hit them.’
Five miles away, a naked young man who had wasted several hours in the darkness, searching for his clothes, was cycling home, painfully and without any lights, when he was stopped by a police car. He’d already been spotted by several drivers, three of them middle-aged women who’d used their mobiles to phone the police and inform them that there was a naked flasher on a bike in the vicinity. Unfortunately two of them had driven past as he’d been relieving himself into a hedge.
Rounding a sharp corner, he found his way blocked by a police car. Twenty minutes later, strategically covered by a blanket, he was being questioned by a thoroughly bad-tempered Inspector who’d had his car windows smashed the night before by hooligans andregarded all young men as swine. Naked ones riding bikes without lights at ten o’clock at night, and pissing with complete abandon into hedges, came into an even worse category.
‘So you’d been having sex with some slut and couldn’t remember where you had left your clothes, is that what you’re saying?’ he asked belligerently.
‘No, I’ve told you, I went for a swim …’
‘In the nude. Right?’
‘All right, naked, in the river. I’d left my clothes on the bank. There’s no law against that, and there was no one about that I could see.’
‘So they just disappeared of their own accord, I suppose?’
The young man sighed.
‘Of course they
Similar Books
