Past Tense by Catherine Aird

Author:Catherine Aird [Aird, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781429953566
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 8596110
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Joe Short arrived at The Old Post Office at Staple St James that evening armed with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of sherry. William Wakefield met him at the door and welcomed him with a hearty handshake.

‘Come along in, Joe,’ he said, steering his guest towards the sitting room. He’d changed into comfortable slacks and an open-necked shirt and looked quite relaxed.

‘Thank you.’ Joe Short indicated his rather stiff suit. ‘Sorry to be a bit overdressed but I came to Berebury for a funeral and wasn’t expecting to stay.’ He waved his hands and explained about the theft at The Shipwright’s Arms. ‘And now I’ve got to go to London tomorrow to try to get a new passport or permit to travel, or something issued instead.’ He grimaced. ‘And I can’t go back to Lasserta until I do.’

‘Bad luck, that,’ said Bill Wakefield. ‘You’re obviously not used to our friendly little English ways with other people’s passports.’

‘True.’ He pulled the corners of his mouth down. ‘Out in Lasserta I assure you that they don’t bother stealing passports. It’s money they’re after as a rule. And with some of the native tribes really deep in the jungle it’s their enemies’ scalps they go for.’

‘That sounds gruesome,’ exclaimed Janet Wakefield, coming through from the kitchen still in an apron. Her appearance had undergone something of a sea change since the return of her husband. Gone was the rather businesslike suit she’d worn that morning – now she had on a soft green dress. She was being altogether more domestic in her manner now, too.

Bill Wakefield laughed. ‘We’ll have to talk about that over supper. Jan’s been slaving over a hot stove for hours.’

‘Don’t you believe it, Joe,’ said Jan. ‘You’re only getting a simple casserole. Nothing elaborate.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ Joe said politely.

Her husband gave an expansive sigh. ‘I can assure you that anything home-cooked is an improvement on what I’ve been living on in the Amazon hinterland. What about you, Joe?’

‘Oh, the food’s not too bad in Lasserta, but it gets a bit monotonous and Mathabo – that’s the place on the island where I’m working – is really remote. Supplies take their time getting through to us, and unless they’re tinned, often enough they’re bad by the time they do. That’s the trouble.’

‘Give him a drink, Bill,’ said Jan, ‘and I’ll be with you in a minute.’

William Wakefield stood back and regarded Joe Short with a long appraising look. ‘So we’re both from the same stable, are we, Joe?’

Joe Short shrugged himself out of his coat and said lightly, ‘Well, if we were Arab stallions I think we could say we’ve come from the same bloodline, that’s all.’

‘But a bit way back,’ said Wakefield.

‘So I’m told,’ said Joe Short, ‘although with regard to appearance my mother always said I favoured her side of the family.’

‘And she wasn’t a Short, of course,’ said William Wakefield.

‘No, no, but she wasn’t actually – what is it they call it these days? – wasn’t vertically challenged, that is to say she was quite tall.

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