in a Constable landscape and beneath the leaves a lover with the Pipes of Pan.
9
T he rain ceased as darkness fell and the sky cleared suddenly as if washed free of cloud. It was a night of bright white stars, so many stars that Greenleaf had to point out and admire—although he did not know their names—the strung lights of Charles’s Wain and Jupiter riding in the south.
‘Patines of bright gold,’ said Marvell. ‘Only they’re not gold, they’re platinum. Patines of bright platinum doesn’t sound half so well, does it?’
‘It’s no good quoting at me,’ said the doctor. ‘You know I never read anything but the
B.M.F
.’ He drew a deep breath, savouring the night air. ‘Very nice,’ he said inadequately. ‘I’m glad I summoned up the energy to walk back with you.’
‘It was a sticky evening, wasn’t it?’ Marvell went first, holding back brambles for Greenleaf to pass along the path.
‘Silly little woman,’ Greenleaf said, harshly for him. ‘I hope Gage can stop her gossiping.’
‘It could be awkward.’ Marvell said no more until the path broadened and the doctor was walking abreast of him. Then suddenly, ‘May I ask you something?’ he said. ‘I don’t want to offend you.’
‘You won’t do that.’
‘You’re a doctor, but Patrick wasn’t your patient.’ Marvell spoke quietly. ‘I asked you if I would offend you because I was thinking of medical etiquette. But—look, I’m not scandal mongering like Nancy Gage—weren’t you very surprised when Patrick died like that?’
Greenleaf said guardedly, ‘I was surprised, yes.’
‘Thunderstruck?’
‘Like that poor fellow on the golf course? Well, no. You see a lot of strange things in my job. I thought at first Patrick had taken an overdose of sodium amytal. I’d given him an anti-histamine, two hundred milligrammes Phenergan, and one would potentiate …’ He stopped, loath to give these esoteric details to a layman. ‘He had the sodium amytal and I advised him to take one.’
‘You left the bottle with him?’
‘Now, look.’ Greenleaf had said he wouldn’t be offended. ‘Patrick wasn’t a child. Howard had prescribed them. In any case, he didn’t take any more. That was the first thing Glover looked for at the post-mortem.’
Marvell opened the orchard gate and Greenleaf stepped from the forest floor on to turf and the slippery leaves of wild daffodils. The petals of a wet rose brushed his face. In the darkness they felt like a woman’s fingers drenched with scent.
‘The first thing?’ Marvell asked. ‘You mean, you looked for other things? You suspected suicide or even murder?’
‘No, no, no,’ Greenleaf said impatiently. ‘A man had died, a young, apparently healthy man. Glover had to find out what he died of. Patrick died of heart failure.’
‘Everybody dies of heart failure.’
‘Roughly, yes. But there were signs that the heart had been affected before. There was some slight damage.’
They had come to the back door. The kitchen smelt of herbs and wine. Greenleaf thought he could detect another less pleasant scent. Mildew. He had never seen mushrooms growing but Marvell’s kitchen smelt like the plastic trays of mushrooms Bernice bought at the village store. Marvell groped for the lamp and lit it.
‘Well, go on,’ he said.
‘If you must know,’ Greenleaf said, ‘Glover made some enquires at Patrick’s old school. Tamsin didn’t know anything and Patrick’s parents were dead. He’d never complained to Howard about feeling ill. Only went to him once.’
‘May I ask if you got anything from the school?’
‘I don’t know if you may,’ Greenleaf said severely. ‘I don’t know why you want to know. But if there’s going to be a lot of talk.… Glover wrote to the headmaster and he got a letter back saying Patrick had had to be let off some of the games because he’d had rheumatic fever.’
‘I see. So you checked with the doctor Patrick had when he was a
9
T he rain ceased as darkness fell and the sky cleared suddenly as if washed free of cloud. It was a night of bright white stars, so many stars that Greenleaf had to point out and admire—although he did not know their names—the strung lights of Charles’s Wain and Jupiter riding in the south.
‘Patines of bright gold,’ said Marvell. ‘Only they’re not gold, they’re platinum. Patines of bright platinum doesn’t sound half so well, does it?’
‘It’s no good quoting at me,’ said the doctor. ‘You know I never read anything but the
B.M.F
.’ He drew a deep breath, savouring the night air. ‘Very nice,’ he said inadequately. ‘I’m glad I summoned up the energy to walk back with you.’
‘It was a sticky evening, wasn’t it?’ Marvell went first, holding back brambles for Greenleaf to pass along the path.
‘Silly little woman,’ Greenleaf said, harshly for him. ‘I hope Gage can stop her gossiping.’
‘It could be awkward.’ Marvell said no more until the path broadened and the doctor was walking abreast of him. Then suddenly, ‘May I ask you something?’ he said. ‘I don’t want to offend you.’
‘You won’t do that.’
‘You’re a doctor, but Patrick wasn’t your patient.’ Marvell spoke quietly. ‘I asked you if I would offend you because I was thinking of medical etiquette. But—look, I’m not scandal mongering like Nancy Gage—weren’t you very surprised when Patrick died like that?’
Greenleaf said guardedly, ‘I was surprised, yes.’
‘Thunderstruck?’
‘Like that poor fellow on the golf course? Well, no. You see a lot of strange things in my job. I thought at first Patrick had taken an overdose of sodium amytal. I’d given him an anti-histamine, two hundred milligrammes Phenergan, and one would potentiate …’ He stopped, loath to give these esoteric details to a layman. ‘He had the sodium amytal and I advised him to take one.’
‘You left the bottle with him?’
‘Now, look.’ Greenleaf had said he wouldn’t be offended. ‘Patrick wasn’t a child. Howard had prescribed them. In any case, he didn’t take any more. That was the first thing Glover looked for at the post-mortem.’
Marvell opened the orchard gate and Greenleaf stepped from the forest floor on to turf and the slippery leaves of wild daffodils. The petals of a wet rose brushed his face. In the darkness they felt like a woman’s fingers drenched with scent.
‘The first thing?’ Marvell asked. ‘You mean, you looked for other things? You suspected suicide or even murder?’
‘No, no, no,’ Greenleaf said impatiently. ‘A man had died, a young, apparently healthy man. Glover had to find out what he died of. Patrick died of heart failure.’
‘Everybody dies of heart failure.’
‘Roughly, yes. But there were signs that the heart had been affected before. There was some slight damage.’
They had come to the back door. The kitchen smelt of herbs and wine. Greenleaf thought he could detect another less pleasant scent. Mildew. He had never seen mushrooms growing but Marvell’s kitchen smelt like the plastic trays of mushrooms Bernice bought at the village store. Marvell groped for the lamp and lit it.
‘Well, go on,’ he said.
‘If you must know,’ Greenleaf said, ‘Glover made some enquires at Patrick’s old school. Tamsin didn’t know anything and Patrick’s parents were dead. He’d never complained to Howard about feeling ill. Only went to him once.’
‘May I ask if you got anything from the school?’
‘I don’t know if you may,’ Greenleaf said severely. ‘I don’t know why you want to know. But if there’s going to be a lot of talk.… Glover wrote to the headmaster and he got a letter back saying Patrick had had to be let off some of the games because he’d had rheumatic fever.’
‘I see. So you checked with the doctor Patrick had when he was a
Similar Books
