False Tongues by Kate Charles

Author:Kate Charles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2015-01-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The morning session had been particularly good, in Margaret’s estimation. She continued to be very impressed with John Kingsley as a facilitator: he seemed possessed of extraordinary sensitivity and empathy, enabling him to draw out issues from the participants that otherwise would have remained buried and unaddressed.

After the fact, Margaret felt a bit guilty that she hadn’t offered Canon Kingsley accommodation at the Principal’s Lodge, rather than assigning him to one of the college’s guest rooms. Apart from anything else, she had cheated herself of the opportunity to get to know that exceptional man better. By the end of lunch she had resolved to do something about it. If it was too late to move him—and to suggest that would perhaps point up her initial failure—she could at least invite him for a meal. A meal she would cook herself.

It had been quite a long time since Margaret had cooked a proper meal. Since her arrival at the College, it had been much easier for her to take her meals in the dining hall than to assume the responsibility of cooking for one person. The standard of the college food was more than acceptable, and it seemed a good thing to let herself be seen at mealtimes, providing opportunities for informal interactions with staff and students. If she needed privacy, or didn’t feel up to communal dining, the kitchen staff were always happy to send a tray to her office or her living quarters.

Once upon a time, in what seemed to her a previous life, she had quite enjoyed cooking, and had been pretty adept at it; Alexander had never complained, nor had Hal. Now, though, she was so out of practice that the prospect was more than a bit daunting. Not allowing herself to think about that, she took her lunch tray to the clean-up station and slotted it into the rack, then went to where John Kingsley was lunching, with former students on either side of him and Keith Moody across the table.

She forced herself not to make eye contact with Keith straightaway, addressing herself to Canon Kingsley. ‘Canon, I was wondering whether you might be free to have supper with me tonight at the Principal’s Lodge,’ she said, smiling. ‘It would give us a chance for a good chat.’

He returned her smile. ‘That’s very kind,’ he said. ‘I’d be delighted, if it’s not too much trouble for you.’

‘I’m a bit rusty at cooking,’ Margaret admitted, ‘but I’m going to have a go. Is there anything you don’t eat?’

The canon gave a dry laugh. ‘I’m a clergyman. I’ll eat anything.’

She felt a tug on her sleeve, and looked down at Keith Moody, smiling involuntarily at his cheeky grin. ‘Please, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘Am I invited too? I’m very well behaved, and I’ll eat anything as well.’

‘Yes, Dr Moody,’ Margaret said formally, conscious of the openly eavesdropping deacons. She attempted to rearrange her expression to something more befitting her position, but was afraid she was less than successful; the smile refused to be suppressed.

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