Lessons in Keeping a Dangerous Promise (Cambridge Fellows mystery novellas) by Charlie Cochrane

Author:Charlie Cochrane [Cochrane, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Right Chair Press
Published: 2021-12-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Orlando woke early, having had not as much sleep as he usually managed, it having taken him a long time to doze off. He’d been concerned about Jonty, naturally, although that little pest appeared to have fallen asleep not long after his head hit the pillow and had woken three quarters of an hour after Orlando, looking remarkably fresh.

“Good morning, Orlando. Lovely to see you.” The usual way that his lover greeted him in the morning: Orlando had been hearing it for seventeen years, yet he’d never tire of it. He’d imagined that voice in his ear when he’d woken in many a trench or makeshift billet. Jonty reached over to tousle his hair. “You’re remarkably dishevelled, considering there was no romantic activity last night. Unless you’ve been sneaking out and finding your entertainment elsewhere?”

“You do blether on. I didn’t sleep well. Too busy worrying about you, if you must know.”

“Oh, you big soft lump.” Jonty snuggled closer. “I feel guilty for having passed such a remarkably good night. I confess I was worried I might have unpleasant dreams, after that conversation about Mervyn Drake but actually such dreams as came were rather nice. I can’t entirely remember what happened in them, although Mama and Papa seemed to feature and I believe she made some terrible and hilarious faux pas.”

“Perhaps they were watching over you and decided you needed something to calm your thoughts.” If only Mr and Mrs Stewart had done the same for him. While Orlando couldn’t recall his dreams, he had a feeling they’d not been pleasant.

“I suspect they’d have been watching over you, too. I woke at about three in the morning and when I returned from the toilet, I feared somebody had let a herd of pigs into the room, so loud was the noise coming from your direction.” Jonty poked him in the ribs, twice. “You were murmuring something, as well. ‘Do not touch me, Mr Maxwell, as I am promised to another!’ or some such nonsense.”

Orlando, on the verge of accusing his lover of telling one of his tall tales, stopped himself in the nick of time. Yes, he had dreamed about James Maxwell. It was all coming back to him. “I don’t believe I said any such thing, although I might have mentioned his name. We were in the same trench, waiting for our artillery barrage to finish before we launched our assault. He bore a striking resemblance to Dr Panesar, which was rather disturbing.”

“It must have been. Although more disturbing for the enemy if it had happened in real life. Would you fancy seeing him headed in your direction, bayonet in hand?”

“I’d feel like his pal the pigeon when he saw Hotspur swooping down. Talking of which, our favourite peregrine was in the dream, too. Intercepting messenger pigeons sent by the enemy. Anyway, to keep to the point in hand, which you appear to find very difficult to do, Maxwell kept telling me it was all lies. That the Kaiser was in fact Neville Tiddlesands—I know, stop giggling, that’s the name he used.

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