Mortal Remains by Margaret Yorke

Author:Margaret Yorke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mortal Remains
ISBN: 9780755134830
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 2013-01-12T05:00:00+00:00

IX

‘Women are the devil, aren’t they?’ Jeremy said. ‘What do you do about it?’

He sat in the only chair, a toothglass containing a generous tot of whisky between his hands, staring glumly at the small strip of carpet on the floor. Patrick was perched on the side of the bed. It was not an encouraging setting for a confessional, if that was what was to come, but it would have to do.

‘In what way do you mean?’ asked Patrick, cautiously. He thought of Ellen. My God, I scarcely knew her, he realised in an instant of revelation. What am I doing, all this time afterwards, still carrying a torch for her? He looked more kindly on his former pupil, whose sudden remark had illuminated his own folly.

‘Well,’ Jeremy hesitated, self-conscious but determined. Patrick, after all, had been his tutor. ‘I don’t have much of a problem myself, if you know what I mean. But they get at me.’

Could he really have no sexual drive? Patrick regarded him with interest. It was sad; not a matter for envy. Better the torment.

‘Joyce?’ he prompted.

‘She’s like a limpet—or—or an octopus,’ said Jeremy, and shuddered.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Well— ’ Jeremy seemed unable to say.

‘Start at the beginning,’ Patrick advised. ‘I’ve no idea how the day went. You managed the funeral all right, I suppose?’

‘Yes—oh yes. It went off very well,’ said Jeremy. ‘It seems ages ago, in fact. I’d almost forgotten about it.’

‘Everyone came? Except Celia?’

‘Yes. A few opted out of the graveside bit, thank goodness. It was very hot.’

‘Arthur Winterton was there?’

‘Yes.’ Jeremy looked surprised at the idea that he might not have been present.

‘What happened afterwards?’

‘Most of the group went off for coffee in Constitution Square. Arthur Winterton didn’t, as a matter of fact. He went to the Benaki Museum.’

‘Alone?’

‘Yes—yes, I’m sure he went alone.’

‘And after coffee?’

‘Oh—well, then everyone went back to the hotel, and we had lunch, and then we went to a beach near Vouliagmeni for a swim. We’d hired a coach.’

‘They’re keen swimmers, are they, your troop?’

‘Well – not really. A few, perhaps. Some just paddled. I’m not much of a swimmer myself but I like it when it’s warm.’

Patrick could imagine him standing skinny in the shallows, encouraging the older people. He was good with them, and they liked him. How did he manage with the very young? He had always been rather an odd-man-out among his peers though their inevitable teasing had seldom been malicious.

‘I couldn’t shake Joyce off,’ he sighed. She’d kept touching him. At first he thought it accidental, but it happened too often for that, and in the bus she’d sat next to him, her thin leg tight against his thigh. ‘She’s not even pretty,’ he burst out.

‘She couldn’t have got up to much in Vouliagmeni, with everybody there,’ Patrick said, mildly.

‘Well, to be fair, she was a help in some ways,’ Jeremy calmed down enough to swallow some whisky. ‘She ran around seeing everyone was all right, getting refreshments – the quantity of lemonade and tea we’ve consumed this trip would fill a lake.

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