Table D'Hote by Douglas Clark

Author:Douglas Clark [Clark, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-01-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

It was one of those bright mornings that seem so clean and unused because the world has been wrapped in mist and untouched by human hand until the sun has managed to tear away the wrapping and leave the pristine product exposed to view. The warmth of the sun, working like a slow furnace in a perfume house, had, in drying up the dew, driven off some of the essential oils of the aromatic plants—rose petals, wild thyme, hedgerow blossom, mint and scented stock—making of the light morning air a fragrant bouquet that appealed to senses other than simply that of smell. It even appealed to Green as he crunched his way up the gravel path to Pilgrim’s Cottage. His step, though still heavy, was nonetheless lighter than usual. He half-whistled, half-hissed a little tune through lips held wide rather than pursed.

He was feeling more pleased with himself than he had done for some weeks. He got the impression that he was being better accepted by Masters than ever before, and he was speculating on his chances of being kept on in the team. He’d asked to leave it often enough in the past, but now the time had come to go he was realising that there were worse jobs. In fact, and this came as a bit of a shock to him, he now knew he would like to stay. Memory was one of Green’s greatest assets, and nostalgia is closely allied to memory. So Green was recalling some of the team’s sweet triumphs. Like all memories, his was skating over the bad bits and dredging up only the more pleasant ones.

It was just after half past nine. Masters and Hill had dropped him at the gate and had then gone on, hoping to reach Bymeres after he had finished morning surgery. Mrs Mace, Masters had guessed, would be up and about long before that time, so Green’s call was not likely to be too inopportune.

So Green was approaching the cottage. He noted that all the windows and the back door were open. Somewhere within the house a radio was gently playing a Third programme Bach concert. He saw that a low table and two deck chairs had been put on the lawn. Mrs Mace was preparing for her interview with Masters? Green wondered how disappointed she would be that he, Green, had arrived in the superintendent’s place.

As he neared the house, Wanda came out of the garage, carrying a large, red plastic base for a sun umbrella.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Good morning, Mr Green. It’s such a lovely day, I thought I’d put up the sunshade and sit in the garden.”

“Can I help?”

“Would you? This needs filling with water. When it’s full it’s awfully heavy. I usually put it where I want it and then run the hose out to fill it, but if you could carry it. . . .”

Green took it from her and went over to the outside tap. Wanda herself went back into the garage for the umbrella.

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