The Collected Short Stories by Jeffrey Archer Read Free Book Online

him it was a waste of money.
    One particular morning in June at the end of their final academic year before retirement, William came down to breakfast to find only one space in the crossword left for him to complete. He studied the clue: “Skelton reported that this landed in the soup.” He immediately filled in the eight little boxes.
    Philippa looked over his shoulder. “There’s no such word, you arrogant man,” she said firmly. “You made it up to annoy me.” She placed in front of him a very hard-boiled egg.

    â€œOf course there is, you silly woman; look ‘whymwham’ up in the dictionary.”
    Philippa checked in the Shorter Oxford among the cookbooks in the kitchen, and trumpeted her delight that it was nowhere to be found.
    â€œMy dear Dame Philippa,” said William, as if he were addressing a particularly stupid pupil, “you surely cannot imagine because you are old and your hair has become very white that you are a sage. You must understand that the Shorter Oxford Dictionary was cobbled together for simpletons whose command of the English language stretches to no more than one hundred thousand words. When I go to college this morning I shall confirm the existence of the word in the OED on my desk. Need I remind you that the OED is a serious work which, with over five hundred thousand words, was designed for scholars like myself?”
    â€œRubbish,” said Philippa. “When I am proved right, you will repeat this story word for word, including your offensive non-word, at Somerville’s Gaudy Feast.”
    â€œAnd you, my dear, will read the Collected Works of John Skelton and eat humble pie as your first course.”
    â€œWe’ll ask old Onions along to adjudicate.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    With that, Sir William picked up his paper, kissed his wife on the cheek, and said with an exaggerated sigh, “It’s at times like this that I wish I’d lost the Charles Oldham.”
    â€œYou did, my dear. It was in the days when it wasn’t fashionable to admit a woman had won anything.”
    â€œYou won me.”
    â€œYes, you arrogant man, but I was led to believe you were one of those prizes one could return at the end of the year. And now I find I shall have to keep you, even in retirement.”
    â€œLet us leave it to the Oxford English Dictionary , my dear, to decide the issue the Charles Oldham examiners were unable to determine,” and with that he departed for his college.

    â€œThere’s no such word,” Philippa muttered as he closed the front door.
    Heart attacks are known to be rarer among women than men. When Dame Philippa suffered hers in the kitchen that morning she collapsed on the floor calling hoarsely for William, but he was already out of earshot. It was the cleaning woman who found Dame Philippa on the kitchen floor and ran to fetch. someone in authority. The bursar’s first reaction was that she was probably pretending that Sir William had hit her with a frying pan, but nevertheless she hurried over to the Hatchards’ house in Little Jericho just in case. The bursar checked Dame Philippa’s pulse and called for the college doctor and then the principal. Both arrived within minutes.
    The principal and the bursar stood waiting by the side of their illustrious academic colleague, but they already knew what the doctor was going to say.
    â€œShe’s dead,” he confirmed. “It must have been very sudden and with the minimum of pain.” He checked his watch; the time was 9:47. He covered his patient with a blanket and called for an ambulance. He had taken care of Dame Philippa for over thirty years and he had told her so often to slow down that he might as well have made a record of it for all the notice she took.
    â€œWho will tell Sir William?” asked the principal. The three of them looked at one another.
    â€œI will,” said the