Fallen Angel by Andrew Taylor

Author:Andrew Taylor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

24

On Tuesday morning, I waited until I had the house to myself.

Vanessa went to work. Half an hour later, Rosemary left to catch a bus – she was going into London to spend the day with a schoolfriend. Michael had already gone to spend the day with the Vintners. He and Brian had an ambitious project to build a tree house in the back garden. I had two hours before my first engagement of the day, a routine meeting with the diocesan surveyor.

When I was alone, I went into the study, shut the door and telephoned Roth Park. I wondered if I had a temperature. I felt unlike myself – excited, and almost furtive. I let the phone ring on. I was on the verge of hanging up when Joanna answered.

I apologized for disturbing her and asked if we could use the drive as an overflow car park at the fete.

‘Of course you can. You can park anywhere you like.’ It was almost ten o’clock yet she sounded half asleep. ‘It’s not exactly going to harm the lawn or damage the flowers.’

‘Should I check with Toby that it’s all right for us to park in the drive?’

‘Toby’s not here. Anyway, it’s nothing to do with him.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It’s my house,’ Joanna said, her voice suddenly distorted as though she were yawning. ‘My land. Nothing to do with Toby.’

‘I see. I wonder – would it be convenient for me to walk up the drive and estimate how many cars there’d be room for. Audrey Oliphant feels it’s important to have a good idea.’

‘Now?’

‘If it’s not inconvenient.’

‘You know the oak trees near the paddock?’ she asked. ‘I’ll be there in about ten minutes.’

I hesitated too long. ‘There’s no need for you to come.’

‘I’d like some air. Besides, I – I need to see where the parking will be. Just in case there’s a problem.’

We said goodbye and I put down the phone. I observed my own symptoms with a proper scholarly detachment: with perfect propriety, I was making arrangements for the church fete; yet I felt guilty: almost as though I had arranged a furtive assignation.

It was a sunny morning, a relatively rare occurrence in that dreary August. I strolled through the churchyard and into Roth Park. A moment later I reached the oaks. I leant against a tree trunk and smoked a cigarette. From where I was standing I could see the rutted drive; I followed it with my eye as it curved round the hillock which concealed the house. It was very peaceful. Such moments of leisure were a rarity in my life. The only things moving were the smoke from my cigarette and a few wispy, almost transparent shreds of cloud high in the blue sky. In the real country, there would have been birds, and there would not have been the omnipresent rumble of traffic. But for the time being this would do very well.

Then I saw Joanna on the drive. She raised her hand in greeting and I waved back.

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