The Graveyard Position

The Graveyard Position by Robert Barnard Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: The Graveyard Position by Robert Barnard Read Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Barnard
they are. I’ll stick with your walk.”
    Merlyn laughed.
    â€œIn that case why don’t we walk to a pub and have a drink together? Or what about a restaurant?”
    A little silence for thought ensued.
    â€œAh well, normally I’d say let’s go to a pub. But funds have been very low recently, and meals rather basic. I’ve never been much of a cook, and I get rather tired of bangers and hamburgers and fish fingers and that kind of thing. And oven chips are quite horrible, aren’t they?”
    â€œI don’t think they have oven chips in Belgium,” said Merlyn. “Is there a recommendable restaurant near you?”
    â€œThere’s the Belle Provence, but it’s rather pricey.”
    â€œThat sounds just the place. What about your brother, Francis?”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œWould he like to come too, do you think?”
    â€œI have no idea. I shouldn’t think he’s been in a real restaurant since he took Mother to the Mitre in Oxford and they had poached eggs on toast. Francis can be an awful bore. He’ll probably want to talk about proposed liturgical changes in the Anglican Communion service.”
    â€œHe’ll talk about what I want him to talk about,” said Merlyn grimly.
    â€œOh, masterful!”
    â€œBeing one of the European Union paymasters makes me feel masterful, when it’s necessary. What’s his telephone number?”
    Francis sounded surprised to be invited, but without Malachi’s enthusiasm he agreed to meet his cousin and brother at the Belle Provence.
    â€œYou’ll have to forgive me if I do things wrong,” he said, rather touchingly. “I’m only really used to school dinners.”
    Malachi lived in his old home, a small stone cottage still blackened by industrial smoke, on the borders of Kirkstall and Horsforth, in a narrow side street with ten or twelve similar dingy houses. Malachi, clearly, had not prospered in Merlyn’s absence. When he knocked on the door Malachi sidled out, obviously not wanting the mess in his front room to be visible to his visitor. He clearly didn’t have the courage of his bohemian convictions, Merlyn thought. They got into the car and Malachi directed him back to the main road, talking in his nonchalant way the while. Francis was already at the restaurant, put in an obscure corner very near the kitchen, but Merlyn managed to get them all seated at a table by the window, well away from any of the other diners. The restaurant proved to be French in its menu but Spanish or Portuguese in its waiting staff. Malachi ordered lavishly and enthusiastically, but Merlyn had to order for Francis, choosing soup and fish, afraid that overbloody meat would lead to a disquisition on vegetarianism and the spiritual dangers of complacency or pride on the part of its practitioners.
    â€œThis is a treat, this,” said Malachi, looking around him appreciatively. “Times are hard, dear boy. Sometimes I don’t know where the price of my next pint is to come from.”
    â€œI should have thought that with a stable economy, low inflation, low interest rates, and so on, things would be booming at the bookmaker’s,” Merlyn said.
    â€œThere speaks the EU mind,” said Malachi bitterly. “I must admit business isn’t too bad at the bookie’s. But the money doesn’t seep down to the mere hirelings…And I’ve had one or two bad investments in the communications market.”
    â€œYou and thousands like you,” said Merlyn. “But I am sorry times are hard for you. And of course, you and Aunt Clarissa weren’t the best of friends, were you?”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t say…No, we weren’t. I never could stand that sort of fakery. Clarissa was no better than a quack doctor, and anyone who paid her for her so-called predictions was getting nothing better than a quack’s colored water.”
    â€œYou always

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