Part 19 (2/2)

'Or four?' suggested Angela Storrs, her voice growing huskier still.

The phone rang at 7.05 p.m. 'Sh.e.l.ly?' Yes.'

You're on your own?' You know I am.' 'Denis gone?' 'Left fifteen minutes ago.'

'One or two things to tell you, if we could meet?' 'What sort of things?'

'Nothing definite. But there's talk about a potential benefaction from the States, and one of the Trustees met Denis - met you, you, I gather, too - and, well, I can tell you all about it when we meet.' I gather, too - and, well, I can tell you all about it when we meet.' 'All 'All about it?' about it?'

'It's a biggish thing, and I think we may be slightly more likely to pull it off, perhaps, if Denis ...' 'And you'll be doing your best?' 'I can't promise anything.' 'I know that.' 'So?' 'So?'

'So you're free and I'm free.'

'On a night like this? Far too dangerous. Me coming to the Master's Lodge? No chance.'

'I agree. But, you see, one of my old colleagues is off to Greece - he's left me his key - just up the Banbury Road - lovely comfy double-bed - crisp clean sheets -central heating - en suite en suite facilities - mini bar. Tariff? No pounds, no s.h.i.+llings, no pence.' facilities - mini bar. Tariff? No pounds, no s.h.i.+llings, no pence.'

You remember pre-decimalization?'

'I'm not too too old, though, am I? And I'd just love to be with you now, at this minute. More than anything in the world.' old, though, am I? And I'd just love to be with you now, at this minute. More than anything in the world.'

You ought to find a new variation on the theme, you know! It's getting a bit of a cliche.'

'Cleeshay', she'd said; but however she'd p.r.o.nounced it, the barb had found its mark; and Sir Clixby's voice was softer, more serious as he answered her.

'I need you, Sh.e.l.ly. Please come out with me. I'll get a taxi round to you in ten minutes' time, if that's all right?'

There was silence on the other end of the line.

'Sh.e.l.ly?'

Yes?'

'Will that be all right?' right?'

'No,' she replied quietly. 'No it won't I'm sorry.' The line was dead. I'm sorry.' The line was dead.

Just before nine o'clock, Cornford rang home from St Peter's: 'Sh.e.l.ly? Denis. Look, darling, I've just noticed in my diary ... You've not had a call tonight, have you?'

Sh.e.l.ly's heart registered a sudden, sharp stab of panic. 'No, why?'

'It's just that the New York publishers said they might be ringing. So, if they do, please make a note of the number and tell 'em I'll ring them back. All right?'

'Fine. Yes.'

'You having a nice evening?'

'Mm. It's lovely to sit and watch TV for a change. No engagements. No problems.' 'See you soon.' 'I hope so.'

Sh.e.l.ly put down the phone slowly. 'I've just noticed in my diary', he'd said. But he hadn't, she knew that She'd looked in his diary earlier that day, to make sure of the time of the St Peter's do. That had been the only entry on the page for 26.2.96.

Or, as she would always think of it, 2/26/96.

Just before ten o'clock, Julian Storrs rang his wife from Reading; rang three times.

The number was engaged.

He rang five minutes later.

The number was still engaged.

He rang again, after a further five minutes.

She answered.

'Angie? I've been trying to get you these last twenty minutes.'

'I've only been talking to Mum, for Christ's sake!'

'It's just that I shan't be home till after midnight, that's all. So I'll get a taxi. Don't worry about meeting me.'

'OK.'.

After she had hung up, Angela Storrs took a Thames Trains timetable from her handbag and saw that Julian could easily be catching an earlier train: the 22.40 from Reading, arriving Oxford 23.20. Not that it mattered. Perhaps he was having a few drinks with his hosts? Or perhaps - the chilling thought struck her - he was checking up on her?

Hurriedly she rang her mother in South Kensington. And kept on kept on kept on talking. The call would be duly registered on the itemized BT lists and suddenly she felt considerably easier in her mind.

Morse had caught the 23.48 from Paddington that night, and at 01.00 sat unhearing as the Senior Conductor made his lugubrious p.r.o.nouncement: 'Oxford, Oxford. This train has now terminated. Please be sure to take all your personal possessions with you. Thank you.'

From a deeply delicious cataleptic state, Morse was finally prodded into consciousness by no less a personage than the Senior Conductor himself.

'All right, sir?'

'Thank you, yes.'

But in truth things were not all right, since Morse had been deeply disappointed by his evening's sojourn in London. And as he walked down the station steps to the taxi-rank, he reminded himself of what he'd always known - that life was full of disappointments: of which the most immediate was that not a single taxi was in sight.

CHAPTER T THIRTY-SIX.

Tuesday, 27 February Initium est dimidium Jacti (Once you've started, you're halfway there) (Latin proverb) (Once you've started, you're halfway there) (Latin proverb) AN UNSHAVEN M MORSE was still dressed in his mauve and Cambridge blue pyjamas when Lewis arrived at 10 o'clock the following morning. Over the phone half an hour earlier he had learned that Morse was feeling 'rough as a bear's a.r.s.e' - whatever that was supposed to mean. was still dressed in his mauve and Cambridge blue pyjamas when Lewis arrived at 10 o'clock the following morning. Over the phone half an hour earlier he had learned that Morse was feeling 'rough as a bear's a.r.s.e' - whatever that was supposed to mean.

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