Appointed to Die by Kate Charles

Author:Kate Charles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SPCK

CHAPTER 20

Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy house: and the place where thine honour dwelleth.

Psalm 26.8

Interlude: Sunday afternoon, Malbury Cathedral Close. The lull between Sunday morning’s service of Holy Communion and Evensong, a quiet time for Sunday lunches and Sunday papers and tea. A family time, often lonely and protracted for people on their own, people like Rowena Hunt and Jeremy Bartlett, like John Kingsley and Evelyn Marsden. But on this day John Kingsley was not alone: he had enjoyed a bountiful lunch with the Willoughbys, eating his fill – and more – of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, fresh vegetables, and Pat’s renowned apple crumble with great dollops of custard.

Neither was Evelyn Marsden alone. In the months that Todd Randall had been lodging with her she had enjoyed cooking for him – fattening the boy up, she called it to herself – and Sunday lunch was an especially good time for her to show off her cooking skills. This day, however, was even more special: Arthur Brydges-ffrench had consented to join them for lunch. Todd always had a good appetite, though he never seemed to put on an ounce of weight, Evelyn thought ruefully as she switched on the kettle for tea; it seemed that she only had to look at food to add to her already thickening waistline. Todd would be sure to do justice to the cake she’d baked for tea – a layered sponge, slathered with cream and decorated with precious raspberries from the freezer. She hoped that Arthur would appreciate the cake. He hadn’t eaten much at lunch; he’d seemed to enjoy the pork, but he’d only picked at the vegetables, and the extra portion of crackling that she’d served him had been left on his plate. Poor dear Arthur was so thin – thinner even than Todd, she fretted. It was clear that, being on his own as he was since his mother’s death, he wasn’t used to eating enough to keep a bird alive.

At least he seemed to be in a better humour today, Evelyn reflected. Last week, after the service for Ivor Jones, he had been so distraught that, though she’d managed to get a few morsels of food into him, he had hardly been able to speak. Today, over lunch, he’d been undeniably less cheerful than of old, but he’d chatted with Todd about some project they were working on, and he’d even made a few feeble jokes about the Dean’s size. ‘I wonder if he has to buy his clothes in the children’s department? Or maybe in London they have special shops for midget clerics,’ he’d said, with his hooting laugh. It was a good sign.

‘Tea?’ she said brightly, carrying the heavy tray into the sitting room. Todd jumped up to take the tray from her; Arthur Brydges-ffrench remained seated, a few faint lines creasing his brow as he contemplated the half-finished Times crossword puzzle, saved over from the previous day to be enjoyed at leisure, in his lap.

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