Deep Water by Tim Jeal Read Free Book Online

distance. The condition was called ‘myositis ossificans’, which Leo remembered because his father had written a short verse about it with some very clever rhymes that he had now forgotten.
    ‘Poor dad,’ sighed Leo.
    ‘He should not have climbed so many stiles. Did you and Justin have a good day?’ Without waiting for Leo to give more than a very brief reply, she walked to the door. ‘I have to go get a doctor’s note for painkillers.’
    When his mother had gone, Leo crossed to the French windows. Justin was in the garden with the air gun he had persuaded his idiotic aunt to give him for his birthday. As Leo watched, Justin shot atsomething in the pear tree, then ran across to search among the daffodils. Leo went out and saw his friend hold up a sparrow and blow into its breast feathers as if to revive it. Then he tossed the light limp little corpse into a redcurrant bush.
    ‘I’m going to sit with my dad,’ Leo announced, turning his back on Justin.
    The walls in Peter’s bedroom were flaking in places, showing a dirty bronze-coloured paint beneath the present dreary green. His father was lying on his bed, fully dressed, looking through a sheaf of papers covered with mathematical calculations.
    ‘Bad luck, dad.’
    ‘I was a fool to overdo it.’
    ‘I could bring a book in here if you want to go on working.’
    ‘That’d be nice. I’ve almost finished this stuff.’
    When Leo returned with a copy of The Thirty- Nine Steps, his father looked up. ‘Everything all right, old chap?’
    ‘We saw an MGB in the river. Is it a spy ship?’
    ‘Most unlikely. It’s a shame poor old Justin needs to escape the whole time.’ Peter smiled at Leo. ‘What’s your book?’ Leo held it up. ‘John Buchan? That old stuff! I’m no pundit, Leo, but adventure novels aren’t rated highly by people in the know.’
    ‘It’s exciting. What’s wrong with that?’
    Peter glanced heavenwards. ‘Does it have intellectual or moral excitement?’
    ‘It’s jolly moral, dad. Hannay’s trying to foil a plot against this country.’
    ‘That’s not quite what I was driving at. If he couldonly save his country by sacrificing his girl’s life, then he’d face an interesting moral choice.’
    ‘Interesting?’ gasped Leo. ‘Don’t you mean sad?’
    ‘But is a sad book a bad one?’
    ‘Do you like being upset, dad?’
    ‘Of course not, but we’re supposed to respond to sad events in books and plays in a special way which …’ He broke off and smiled helplessly. ‘Look old chap, literature isn’t really my subject.’
    Leo’s irritation with his father never lasted long. Dad was a hero to lie flat on his back for days without whining. Not that dad himself believed in heroes. He thought people couldn’t do good things just for the sake of other people. Instead they were always trying to appear in a good light. Leo didn’t agree with this. Dad wasn’t being brave to make people admire him. He was behaving well so he wouldn’t upset his family.
    *
    Andrea had telephoned the doctor and was on her way to collect Peter’s prescription from the surgery . After a short drive, she arrived at a large stone house standing in a garden incongruously containing Scotch pines and palms. Entering the panelled hall, which smelled of furniture polish with an underlying hint of drugs, Andrea saw a glamorous blonde woman of about her own age cross from one doorway to another, and then suddenly turn in her direction.
    ‘I’ve come for my husband’s prescription,’ said Andrea. ‘His name’s Pauling.’
    ‘Don’t look at me. I’m not the doctor’s secretary.’The woman’s ladylike indignation at having been taken for a secretary struck Andrea as hilarious.
    ‘I’m so sorry. Is his secretary available?’ she asked, with exaggerated humility.
    ‘No, but don’t worry, I’ll find the damned thing.’
    The sudden change of tone from imperiousness to matter of fact good humour was too much for Andrea, who let out a