Return match by Cadell Elizabeth

Author:Cadell, Elizabeth
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: New York : W. Morrow
Published: 1979-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

"My mother went out and left her lunch. We wondered whether you'd care to come and eat it."

"You're inviting me to lunch, sorry, luncheon?"

"We are. Will you come?" Rona asked.

"That's a silly question, Rona love. Consider the alternative: a hunk of bread with a couple of sardines spread on it, with a can of pineapple to follow. Do you want me to put on my bandmaster's uniform?"

"No. You can come as you are. It's a cold lunch; do you mind?"

"Did you say it was what Mrs. Pressley was going to have?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm honoured. Let's go."

When Rona served the meal, he ate with frank enjoyment and without any sign that he had ever heard the word diet. He spread bread with an inch of butter, helped himself liberally to potato salad, had several more slices of bread and butter with his cheese, and poured cream and sugar into his coffee.

"Best grub I've had since I was weaned," he said, helping to carry plates to the dishwasher. "Hey, Nigel, don't take that coffee away; I'd like some more."

Cup in hand, he walked to a small table to study a photograph in a leather frame.

"That's your dad as was, isn't it?" he asked Nigel.

"Yes." "

"My mum said he was a good doctor. She went to his funeral, along with a few other hundreds of patients or admirers. You were living in one of those big houses in Regent Crescent, and then you moved to Beech Grove, near us. That's where I remember you. First time I knew you, you were watching the builders working on the extension to the Renson bookshop. I was watching too. And Dave."

"And one of your gang heaved a brick at us."

"He missed. But that set the tone, as you might say, for future relations. Wish I could remember why you pushed me in the river. That was when I first saw your mother. She stopped me on the street and spoke to me and said she was sorry and she hoped I hadn't caught cold. She said you were sorry too, but I didn't swallow that one. I was really upset when Bert told me she'd bought this place. Is she getting used to the band?"

"She won't have to get used to it," Nigel said. "I'm going to find her a drier house to live in."

"I'm glad. All the same, some people enjoy listening to us." He took his empty cup to the kitchen. "It's a funny thing," he said, returning, "what a lot of people there are who know nothing about brass. Even that poet, Keats. You know what he called trumpets? He called them silver, snarling trumpets. Put me off, that did, because they're not silver and they don't snarl. I told the teacher so."

"The teacher should have switched you to Dryden," Nigel told him. "He talked about the trumpets' loud clangour, and he was right. You ought to come over here and listen to the row you make."

"If I was over here, I wouldn't be making it.

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