The Haunt by A. L. Barker Read Free Book Online Page B

it.’
    ‘Dreams reveal what you’re thinking.’
    ‘It was a trick of the light on a geological formation.’ She sipped her sherry and grimaced. He said, ‘I can see you’re not going to enjoy this holiday. You’ve made up your mind not to.’
    ‘I feel as if something’s waiting to happen.’
    ‘Why did you come?’
    ‘To be with you.’
    He might have told her she was going the wrong way about it. He might have told her a thing or two. He twiddled his empty glass. ‘I think I’ll have another.’
    At the bar counter someone was holding forth. ‘I’ve nothing against the English weekend. It’s an institution, but only for the Establishment. Essential services should maintain their essence through Monday to Monday. The veriest banger has the right to have its wants supplied on a Saturday afternoon. My car’s a very banger, it’s sitting in the road like a broody hen and you tell me no one will do anything about it.’
    ‘You might find a garage open for repairs in Falmouth,’ said the barmaid.
    ‘How do I get to Falmouth?’
    ‘There’s a bus tomorrow afternoon.’
    He winked at her. ‘What’ll I do till then?’
    He was pleasantly pissed, thought Antony, envying the condition.
    ‘There’s a hotel.’ The barmaid drew Antony’s second pint. ‘The Bellechasse. This gentleman’s staying there.’
    ‘The Bellwhat?’
    ‘It’s French for nice hunting,’ said Antony.
    ‘Sounds expensive.’
    ‘It’s not.’
    ‘Is it far?’
    ‘You could walk it.’
    When Antony went back with his beer, Pam said, ‘Do you have to keep drinking?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Who was that you were talking to?’
    ‘His car’s broken down and he’s stranded. He was asking me about the hotel.’
    ‘Our hotel?’
    ‘There’s another?’
    Pam sighed. ‘Drink makes you surly.’ It was spoken softly and reasonably but there was no reason.
    ‘Do you know about cars?’ The stranded man had come with his go-lucky air and a tot of whisky.
    Antony shrugged. ‘Not much.’
    ‘There’s not much wrong with mine. She’s got a charge like a rhino when she’s roused. Trouble is rousing her.’
    Pam said, ‘Don’t you belong to any of the motoring organisations?’
    ‘Can’t run to it. I’m an underemployed painter.’
    ‘Where did you break down?’ asked Antony.
    ‘A mile or so back. Just petered out. The starter motor works but that’s all. Probably a screw loose somewhere. You wouldn’t take a look, would you?’
    ‘I’ll look but I can’t promise anything.’
    He held out his hand. ‘Olssen, Charlie.’
    ‘My name’s Wallington, and this is Pam.’
    ‘Would you mind if we go and look at the car?’ Olssen said to her.
    ‘I shan’t come.’
    ‘We won’t be long. Ten minutes there, ten minutes back, two ticks to fix it.’
    ‘I’ll go back to the hotel.’
    When he and Antony were outside, Olssen said, ‘Does she mind?’
    ‘She doesn’t like pubs.’ Antony had seen a crust of paint on the seat of Olssen’s jeans. ‘I suppose the bottom’s out of the building trade?’
    ‘I guess so.’ Olssen sounded unconcerned.
    ‘It’s bound to recover. People have to have houses, they don’t have to have flowers.’
    ‘Nor pictures.’
    ‘I’m a florist.’
    ‘People have to have flowers for weddings and funerals and to take to hospitals,’ Olssen pointed out.
    ‘I picked a bunch from the hedgerow, to see how many varieties there were. I counted forty-five.’
    ‘Mostly weeds?’
    ‘They were flowers, beautiful and free-gratis.’
    ‘What did you do with them?’
    ‘Threw them away. Pam didn’t want them. She said, like you, they were weeds.’
    Olssen was starting to roll. Antony liked him for it, he didn’t trust a man with a strong head. They came to a bend in the road. Olssen pointed with an unsteady finger, ‘There she is.’ With the bonnet up, the car looked ready to take a bite. ‘Going like the clappers till we got here. She knew I was thinking of taking her to the