A Gun to Play With by J F Straker

Author:J F Straker [Straker, J F]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2015-05-10T04:00:00+00:00

9

Toby awoke at six o’clock, and was surprised to find that he had been asleep. Surprised, too, to find himself in bed. Then he remembered, and fingered the lump on his head. It was still there, and still painful. He wondered if Crossetta were back from wherever she had gone in the Riley, and if she had been in to have a look at him while he slept. She’s not the anxious, solicitous type, he told himself, but she gave me this ruddy egg. She ought to be interested in watching it hatch out.

But it was Mrs Buell, not Crossetta, who visited him some ten minutes later. She insisted on removing the bandage ‘Young girls are so haphazard’ — to satisfy herself that all was well, and exclaimed in sympathy at the sight of his forehead. She brought him a mirror that he might see for himself, and he agreed that it was quite a mess. But when she wanted to replace the bandage he stopped her.

‘I’m getting up,’ he said. ‘I’ve had enough of bed. I’m coming down to dinner, and I don’t want to be swathed in bandages. I hate being stared at. Just stick a bit of plaster over the punctures.’

She protested volubly. His mother would never forgive her, she declared, if she allowed him to do anything so foolish. But Toby was firm.

‘Has Mrs Tait returned yet?’ he asked her. ‘She borrowed the Riley for this afternoon.’

‘I haven’t seen her since tea.’

Toby nodded, trying to seem unconcerned. Mrs Buell eyed him speculatively. He recognized the look; he had seen it in his mother’s eyes whenever a girlfriend was under discussion. He got rid of Mrs Buell quickly, before she had time to lead up to that ‘Is there anything in it?’ question which he knew she was dying to ask.

He did not feel so good when he got downstairs. After he had patiently but unwillingly given each guest in turn a fictitious account of his accident he felt even worse. But he wasn’t going to admit it to Mrs Buell, and he went in to dinner with the others.

There was still no sign of Crossetta. ‘She didn’t say she’d be out,’ Mrs Buell told him, ‘but young people nowadays are so haphazard about meals.’

That’s the second time this evening she’s used that adjective about Crossetta, he thought. Doesn’t she approve of her?

He had steamed sole for dinner. Toby disliked fish unless it was fried; but the other guests were eating boiled beef, and he appreciated that Mrs Buell had cooked the sole especially for him, so he made an effort to finish it. But he wasn’t hungry, and his head ached, and he was worried about the girl. Why wasn’t she there?

He nearly choked over the last mouthful, as an unpleasant and disturbing possibility occurred to him. He remembered the look on her face — a smug I-bet-I-could-get-away-with-it kind of look — when she had told him of Watson’s parties and of the man’s partiality for young and pretty women.

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