Hartsend (29 page)

‘‘You don't want a percolator. Coarse ground coffee and a cafetière would be the best idea. Or an Italian stove-top pot. They're rather smart. A machine would take up too much room on your worktop. And it's not ‘‘we'' any more, Lesley,'' he added. ‘‘It's you.''

‘‘Pardon?''

‘‘The house is yours, Lesley.''

She picked up the tray and went to the kitchen. After a minute or two he followed. She was standing at the sink.

Was he in trouble? He had no right to tell her how to live her life, what to think, how to mourn. She would go to Gordon's funeral. And, he realised, if he cared for her, he would have to go too.

‘‘Am I in trouble?'' he asked.

‘‘No.''

He put a respectful, brotherly arm across her shoulder. She turned, leaning her head on his chest. He could feel his heart thumping as his arms closed round her.

 

On Saturday morning he was on the back doorstep at ten o'clock exactly, having promised to take her on a shopping-for-a-cafetière expedition. She was already in her coat.

‘‘Lesley, do you trust me?''

‘‘Why?''

‘‘I would like to do something … rather … odd.''

‘‘Odd?''

She looked closely at the jute shopping bag he was carrying but there was no way she could tell what was in it. He'd laid the day's Herald on the top.

‘‘A little … strange. But in a good way. If you'll let me.''

‘‘When?''

‘‘Now.''

‘‘Here?''

‘‘Yes.''

‘‘Something good but strange?''

‘‘Yes.''

‘‘All right. Should I take my coat off? Do I have to …''

‘‘No. Just stand well back. No, further than that. In the doorway.''

‘‘Why?''

He didn't answer. He had some difficulty getting the overalls over his shoes, but managed at last. He took off his glasses, tucked them into their hard case, and laid it on the work top. He brought out the safety goggles and put them on. They felt rather tighter than they had in the shop, but now was not the time to bother with petty adjustments. The hammer handle was slippery: he must hold it firmly. He had brought a cloth, the plan being to tape it over the tiles, but now it seemed unnecessary, almost cowardly. He chose a spot near the outside door, far enough away from the window and the electric switch, steadied his stance, counted to three, and swung.