The Sinner's Congregation by Guy Bellamy

Author:Guy Bellamy [Bellamy, Guy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2021-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

7

I was the unproud owner of a slightly bruised Peugeot 504 estate car, metallic green plus grime, hardly the traditional limousine of a prosperous hotelier on the make but highly suitable for the quantity of shopping that I did myself every weekday morning at the market, the cash-and-carry, the wine merchants or the butchers.

Mrs Stapleton elected wisely to travel to the Cloche Hat in the Pyms’ Monteverdi, and Adam and I followed at a respectable distance in the Peugeot.

‘Why is he giving us lunch?’ asked Adam. ‘Getting a drink out of the bastard is like getting a pork chop out of a rabbi.’

I was fairly mystified myself. Rodney did not, in my experience, buy anybody anything. He had the true meanness of the very rich, and was fond of saying, ‘It’s only the poor who buy everyone in sight a drink. The rich don’t have to prove anything.’ He said this with such conviction that people with a hundredth of his income, or no income at all, would frequently pay for his whisky, as if confronted by an unquestionable truth.

‘It’s his wedding anniversary,’ I said, remembering. Their reception at the hotel had been my most profitable day last year.

‘Of course,’ said Adam, and his face broke into a huge, happy smile.

‘Why does the memory of the Pyms’ wedding bring on that expression?’ I asked.

He paused for a while and then said, ‘If I tell you something, keep it to yourself.’

‘If I tell anybody it will be in strict confidence,’ I assured him.

‘I’ve kept it a secret for a year but I have a feeling it’s safe to tell you now.’

I smelt a succulent piece of gossip heading my way.

‘I always fancied Julie,’ he said finally. ‘But I never managed to meet her until he brought her into the Bali. By that time she had fallen in love with his bank balance and they were already engaged.’

‘You make her sound a trifle mercenary,’ I suggested.

‘She had to think of her future,’ he said forgivingly. ‘Starving in a garret isn’t the modern girl’s style – there are too many new toys in the shops: video recorders, music centres, freezers, waste disposal units. Indispensable prerequisites for modern living, they tell me, although I have never owned any of them.’

The Monteverdi turned off the main road and we followed it down a much narrower country lane.

‘So what happened?’ I asked. I could sense that there was a piece of top quality gossip hovering here somewhere – I wanted to get my hands on it.

‘She prefers me.’

I felt slightly short-changed at this; I was looking for something meatier.

‘What leads you to that conclusion?’ I asked in a tone of voice which suggested as clearly as possible that nothing had taken me in that direction.

‘You may remember that Rodney held a stag party at your establishment at which I was not?’

‘I recall the stag party. Your absence? No.’

‘Well, it’s always flattering to be missed,’ said Adam. ‘I was at home in my flat, being somewhat short of folding money.

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