Читать книгу The Meadows of the Moon - James Hilton - Страница 17

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The next morning she rose rather early and found to her surprise that John had not travelled to town by his usual 7.05. While she was having breakfast, indeed, he came in and greeted her cordially. “Sorry I wasn’t in till late last night,” he said, “but mother told me all about the accident. Glad you and Michael weren’t hurt.”

He added, pouring himself out a cup of coffee: “I thought I’d just run down to Pilcher’s Farm and look at the car.... Martin thinks the repairs will cost about fifty pounds.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Wings and tyres and radiator and engine all badly smashed, you know.” He seemed judicial, but not in the least reproachful. “Of course, an accident like that couldn’t have happened except through negligence. I’m afraid, when the car’s been repaired, Michael mustn’t be allowed to drive again. You can learn, if you like.... The truth is, Michael can’t drive.”

It was the truth, and she knew it. Yet somehow her blood ran cold to hear him summing up Michael’s deficiencies so ruthlessly, and, above all, so accurately.

“Michael expected that you would be rather concerned about the car,” she said, with a hint of irony.

He did not notice it, or, if he did, he pretended otherwise. “Naturally I am concerned,” he replied. “I have to foot the bill. Fifty pounds for unnecessary books and another fifty for an unnecessary smash-up are rather unfortunate items in one’s balance-sheet.”

Then, with perfect good humour, he changed the subject and chatted with her desultorily while she breakfasted.