Charlie Cochrane [Cambr

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do such slovenly things that this chap was really called Robshaw and has been living and working in
London under an assumed name. How do you propose, given that we ve been told not to touch, to find out
anything about him? If we go snooping around where he lived or worked, we ll soon be found out by
Redknapp and his cronies.
Will we? Granted it wouldn t be terribly wise if we try to search the dead man s room, but we could
ask some of the locals up in West Brompton if they knew him. Perhaps he frequented a local public house
or chatted up the girl in the Post Office. And I know for a fact that Papa s been on the case already. He and
Hopkins have been going through all the silver and think they ve found a teapot supplied by the firm
Halfpenny worked for. It would be easy enough to go back to where we bought it and pretend to want a
milk jug or something to match. There are so many people we could ask.
Ask what?
If they knew Halfpenny and if they had any suspicions about him. People love to gossip, especially if
those people are female they might give us a clue to whatever his great secret was. Jonty lowered his
voice. Perhaps he kept a man in Winchester.
Dr. Stewart! Not everyone thinks like you do. Orlando punched his lover s arm. I had in mind he
might be involved in something like espionage, hence all the travelling. Look at all the trouble going on in
India what if it s spreading over here and there are agents at work among us?
It took a heavy whack to his back to get Jonty to stop laughing, and then he had a coughing spasm
before he could talk coherently. You have to stop letting Dr. Panesar buttonhole you in the Senior
Common Room with his tall tales he s got half the fellows of St. Bride s looking under their beds for
assassins or fomenters of civil unrest. Trouble in India s hardly likely to spread to West Brompton, is it? Or
deepest, darkest Hampshire. This will prove to be the usual sordid affair, mark my words. A crime of
passion or someone looking to make money. Come on, back to the hotel.
The heat of the day had left a muggy evening, with the threat of a storm brewing somewhere. There
was even the suggestion of thunder far out at sea, somewhere on the French coast perhaps, sounding like
great guns in some distant battle. Jonty and Orlando reached the shelter of the hotel just as a few large tepid
spots of rain hit the pavements and were getting themselves outside of a cold collation when the heavens
opened in earnest.
The day of Mrs. Coppersmith s funeral dawned bright and gleaming, the thunderstorm having cleared
the air and leaving a world which sparkled like a diamond. It seemed a fitting day to send off the person
who had brought a sparkle, if an occasional and temporary one, into her grandson s life. The congregation
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Charlie Cochrane
sang the hymns with gusto, Wesley much in evidence, with a touch of revivalist songs to raise the spirits.
There were as many smiles as tears, as much laughter afterwards as there was solemnity, just as the woman
had told her solicitor she wanted.
Orlando presided over the reception afterwards, making sure all his guests had the opportunity to
speak to him, give their remembrance of his grandmother, and feel they d had a special day. Mrs. Stewart
acted as chatelaine in her usual impeccable manner, ensuring everyone was well oiled and foddered, while
her son and husband charmed all in sight. One or two folk had queried the Stewarts presence but MacBride
had patiently explained how Mrs. Stewart had been Dr. Coppersmith s guardian since the time he was
orphaned. He d confided that this fact had always been kept secret to protect Orlando from the unwanted
attentions of young ladies who might have sought a connection with such a notable family.
He wasn t aware that he was lying, having had the story directly from Mrs. Coppersmith when she d
updated her will to accommodate her little trust fund, or so he told everyone who was willing to listen.
Jonty s admiration of the old woman s common sense continued to increase by leaps and bounds.
Eventually the guests drifted away, after shaking Orlando s hand and taking a final blow on their
handkerchiefs. Mr. and Mrs. Stewart walked back to the hotel, leaving their lads alone to say a private
farewell, one that hadn t been possible under the scrutiny of dozens of pairs of eyes.
Isn t it handsome? Jonty turned a crystal vase in his hands, admiring both the subtle colours and the
way the light diffracted through it, rainbows appearing from nowhere and lighting the walls of the drawing
room. It looks Italian or something else which smacks of warm Mediterranean shores. Your grandmother
had impeccable taste. He placed it on the table, took out his handkerchief and passed it to his lover, whose
eyes were welling.
Thank you. Orlando blew his nose. I m sorry. Being soppy again.
No you re not. You have every right to cry no point in keeping all those feelings pent up. You were
very brave at the funeral, and afterwards quite proper that it should all come out at some point. Jonty [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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