The Sun Chemist by Lionel Davidson

Author:Lionel Davidson [Lionel Davidson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571287031
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2011-11-27T05:00:00+00:00

3

The early-afternoon plane turned out, in the normal way, to be a late-afternoon one. It was nearly ten o’clock before I debouched wearily from the taxi in Russell Square. I went up to my seventh-floor eyrie, trudged along the corridor, put my key in the door, and paused. Someone was inside.

My thoughts flew immediately to St Mary and St Joseph and to Terre Haute. I left the key in the lock and very carefully put my bags down. The memorandum and my notes were in the small executive case. At the end of the corridor was the fire cupboard, with its cylinders, buckets, and hose. I padded down to it, placed the case in concealment, and returned.

Having done this, it occurred to me that with or without the case, eyes could still be made to cross. I cleared my throat, coughed, and, with my heart unpleasantly pounding, unlocked the door and, leaving it open, went inside. All the lights were on. The sound was coming from the kitchen, and I went there, my bag at the ready.

She was just shutting the fridge door, having evidently got some ice for a long gin and tonic. She was in a dressing gown.

‘Caroline?’ I said.

‘Hello.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, well.’ She’d had a bath, and also washed her hair. It was clinging damply to her head, giving her a rather furtive, not to say guttersnipe, look. She was looking guilty, anyway. She licked her lips. ‘I thought you’d put it off till tomorrow. It got late. I thought you weren’t coming.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at Willie’s?’

‘Things got difficult at Willie’s.’

‘But –’

‘I gave Antonia my flat, over Christmas. She’s got her bloke there.’

‘Oh. But won’t your parents –’

‘Well, I can’t go there. I’m at Willie’s.’

‘I see. Yes. I see,’ I said.

‘You can put your case down now,’ she said. ‘You’re there. How was orange-blossom land?’ She was recovering herself, and I saw that the guilt and resentment very probably had as their source the fact that she was drunk.

‘Hang on a minute,’ I said, and put down my case. I retraced my steps, and returned with the other, cautiously thinking over the matter.

‘Something wrong with the flight?’ she said.

‘Yes. Delays.’

‘Do you want anything to eat?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, now.’

‘I brought you a caftan.’

‘That’s nice.’ She was looking definitely stoned.

‘How many have you had?’ I said.

‘Several. How many would you like?’

‘I’ll have one, just for now.’

She got it while I took my coat off. ‘Go and have a wash,’ she said as I did this. ‘You look horrible. Saturnine.’

I went and had a wash, still working the matter out. A logistical problem had to be worked out.

The drink was awaiting my return: a whisky with water.

‘And stop looking so bloody worried, as well as saturnine,’ she said. ‘You appeared as what I would describe as thunderstruck on arrival.’

‘I didn’t know it would be you.’

‘Who did you – Oh.’ She became alert. ‘Have you gone and made an assignation?’

‘No. You silly cow,’ I said irritably.

‘Well, that’s all right, then.

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