Читать книгу Dead Water - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 11

Major Barrimore finished his coffee and replaced the cup with a slightly unsteady hand. His immaculately shaven jaws wore their morning purple tinge and his eyes were dull.

‘Hasn’t been long about it,’ he said, referring to his copy of The Sun. ‘Don’t waste much time, these paper wallahs. Only happened day-before-yesterday.’

He looked at his wife. ‘Well. Haven’t you read it? ‘he asked.

‘I looked at it.’

‘I don’t know what’s got into you. Why’ve you got your knife into this reporter chap? Decent enough fellah of his type.’

‘Yes, I expect he is.’

‘It’ll create a lot of interest. Enormous circulation. Bring people in, I wouldn’t wonder. Quite a bit about The Boy-and-Lobster.’ She didn’t answer and he suddenly shouted at her. ‘Damn it, Margaret, you’re about as cheerful as a dead fish. You’d think there’d been a death on the Island instead of a cure. God knows we could do with some extra custom.’

‘I’m sorry, Keith. I know.’

He turned his paper to the racing page. ‘Where’s that son of yours?’ he said presently.

‘He and Jenny Williams were going to row round as usual to South Bay.’

‘Getting very thick, aren’t they?’

‘Not alarmingly so. She’s a dear girl.’

‘If you can stomach the accent.’

‘Hers is not so very strong do you think?’

‘P’raps not. She’s a fine strapping filly, I will say. Damn’ good legs. Oughtn’t he to be swotting?’

‘He’s working quite hard, really.’

‘Of course you’d say so.’ He lit a cigarette and returned to the racing notes. The telephone rang.

‘I will,’ said Mrs Barrimore.

She picked up the receiver. ‘Boy-and-Lobster. Yes. Yes.’ There was a loud crackle and she said to her husband, ‘It’s from London.’

‘If it’s Mrs Winterbottom,’ said her husband, referring to his suzerain. ‘I’m out.’

After a moment or two the call came through. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Certainly. Yes, we can. A single room? May I have your name?’

There were two other long-distance calls during the day. By the end of the week the five rooms at The Boy-and-Lobster were all engaged.

A correspondence had got underway in The Sun on the subject of faith-healing and unexplained cures. On Friday there were inquiries from a regular television programme.

The school holidays had started and Jenny Williams had come to the end of her job at Portcarrow.