The Room on the Second Floor. T Williams A

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СКАЧАТЬ like a hundred years old by now. I imagine he’s no longer with us.’

      Linda looked across at Roger’s face. He still hadn’t fully come to terms with his great good fortune. Being left a thirty-six room mansion, along with the rental income from a street of Georgian houses in Hampstead, had turned him into a very wealthy man. But he wasn’t making plans to buy a Caribbean island, or a villa in St Tropez. Professor Roger Dalby had other things on his mind. Predictably, his intention was to concentrate entirely on his research into the life of Saint Bernard. Linda was not in the least surprised to hear the B-word on her boss’s lips at that very moment.

      ‘Champagne was the cradle of civilisation in Bernard’s day, you know. And yet, they never got round to making the sparkling wine itself till the later Middle Ages.’ He was staring down into his full glass of champagne, musing out loud to nobody in particular.

      Determined not to let him retreat into the past, Duggie was quick to snap him out of it. ‘Bloody hell, Rog, can’t you think about anything else? So tell me something. Why did they call those big hairy dogs after the old boy then? Surely he didn’t have a tail and a barrel round his neck?’

      ‘No, of course not. It was the abbey…’ He stopped. Even Professor Roger Dalby knew when he was being made fun of.

      ‘You could do with a dog in the new house, you know.’ Duggie drained his champagne glass just in time to slip it onto a passing tray and replace it with another. Chivalrously he offered it to Linda, but she waved it away with a light shake of the head. He remembered that she rarely drank. This was something else she had in common with her boss. She turned back to Roger, catching his arm in her eagerness.

      ‘Oh yes, Roger, get a dog please. It would be such great company.’ Her eyes sparkled and her hand on his arm felt good. Eager to please her, he immediately agreed. In fact, if she had suggested getting a giraffe, his reaction would probably have been the same.

      ‘Of course. We must have a dog. There is so much land at the new place, we could have a whole pack of them.’

      She thrilled at the use of the pronoun we, but made no comment.

      ‘Will you help me select one, please?’ Delighted to see her nod, he carried on. ‘I suppose we could even consider a Saint Bernard…’ This time both of them groaned as one, so he hastily qualified it with a vague ‘or whatever…’.

      Then, to the surprise of both of them, he did not dive back into the Middle Ages.

      ‘I hardly knew Uncle Eustace at all, you know.’ His voice was low.

      ‘Did you ever meet him?’ Linda prompted him gently, conscious that personal revelations did not come easy to him. She was rewarded by an unambiguous answer.

      ‘Only at the funeral.’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘My parents were both killed in a car crash. I was only nineteen. I was halfway through my first year at Cambridge when they had the accident. It all seemed so surreal somehow. One moment I was a normal student in the process of breaking away from my parents and then, overnight, they were dead.’

      He swallowed the glass of champagne in one gulp before carrying on. The expression on his face was bleak. It took the thirty-five years of rigorous training in the suppression of her emotions by her Methodist parents to stop Linda from sweeping him into her arms and clutching him to her breast. She did at least grip his arm tightly. Duggie reached out to a passing waitress and replaced the empty glass with another full one. Roger didn’t even notice. He carried on.

      ‘I didn’t see him in the church. It was outside in the churchyard in the pouring rain. After that awful bit, where you pick up a handful of earth and drop it into the grave, I suddenly felt an arm around my shoulders. A flask of brandy was pushed into my hand. I took a mouthful and turned to see him; a mane of black hair and a beard and moustache like one of the Merovingian kings.’

      There was a pause, during which both Linda and Duggie waited for him to veer off, and take refuge in his own private medieval world. But, to their surprise and gratification, he persevered in the modern era.

      ‘He gave me a hug and told me he was the black sheep of the family. That’s what he said, “the black sheep”. He said he had loved his sister very dearly and regretted the fact he had seen so little of her. Then he kissed me on both cheeks and left without another word. Can’t have been with me for more than thirty seconds. It was only that night I found the hipflask in my pocket. It had McKinnon Marine etched in the side. That was my mother’s maiden name: McKinnon.’ He paused awkwardly, as if regretting this rare glimpse into his personal life.

      Both Linda and Duggie, who knew him so well, were struck by this rare insight. This was, however, the end of the revelations. He fell silent. His mind was clearly already heading back to the Middle Ages when Duggie stepped in.

      ‘A toast.’

      He held up his glass in their direction. The erstwhile university professor raised his glass absently. Linda snatched a mineral water from a passing waitress and joined in, unaware of the regret in Roger’s eyes as her hand was removed from his arm. Duggie waxed lyrical.

      ‘Here’s to your life at Toplingham Manor. May you find happiness and success. No, hang on a minute. You already have. How stupid of me to forget. So, here’s to your life at the manor and happiness and success to the rest of us. All right?’

      Their glasses touched, and they drank the health of the lucky man. Then, remarkably, Roger Dalby stayed in the present day. Looking up, he asked the question that had been on his mind since seeing the manor for the first time, a few weeks before.

      ‘Now what do I do with a damn great house like the manor? Linda and I only need a couple of rooms at most.’ Oblivious to her surge of hope, he continued. ‘And another couple for me to sleep and eat in. I’m still left with over thirty spare rooms, and some of them are huge, as big as this ballroom.’

      The crest of the wave of Linda’s emotions crashed back into its trough again. ‘Why don’t you start some kind of business?’ Her voice gave nothing away. ‘Maybe a hotel?’

      But she tailed off, realising that even Basil Fawlty would make a better hotelier than Roger. He would no doubt be able to take an order for dinner, but would then most probably disappear into his study for the rest of the day. The customers would be left to starve. Hours later he would be found, looking up some arcane fact to do with his beloved saint. Duggie, however, had a practical solution.

      ‘A club. That’s what the old place would lend itself to. A private club with leisure facilities and entertainment. After all, there is a decent golf course hidden away in the grounds. All right, it’s a bit overgrown and only nine holes, but even so… And the old squash courts won’t need too much to get them back in operation. Toplingham Country Club. I can see it now.’

      His arms were spread out wide, his eyes screwed shut, as he visualised the scene. A tasteful gold-lettered sign, pinned to the stone pillars outside the manor, floodlit at night, naturally. As he did so, his outstretched right hand brushed against something reassuringly warm and soft. He was delighted when he opened his eyes to see Tina Pound, coming over to offer her congratulations to Roger. He treated her to his most engaging smile.

      ‘Hello again. You’ve come back to me. I assume you know our illustrious host and hostess?’

      Linda reddened, but managed a smile at Tina. They knew each other well from the university. ‘Hi, Tina. I didn’t know you and Douglas were friends.’

      Duggie СКАЧАТЬ