The Murder Room by P. D. James Read Free Book Online

qualities rare today. There might later be difficulties about the chain of command. Godby obviously saw herself as responsible to Caroline, not unreasonably since it was his sister who had given her the job. But the allocation of duties and responsibilities could wait until the new lease had been signed. He would retain both women. The boy, Ryan Archer, wouldn’t stick at the job for long, the young never did.
    He thought,
If only I could feel passionately, even strongly about anything.
His career had long since failed to provide emotional satisfaction. Even music was losing its power. He remembered the last time, only three weeks ago, when he had played Bach’s Double Violin Concerto with a teacher of the instrument. His performance had been accurate, even sensitive, but it had not come from the heart. Perhaps half a lifetime of conscientious political neutrality, of the careful documentation of both sides of any argument, had bred a debilitating caution of the spirit. But now there was hope. He might find the enthusiasm and fulfilment he craved in taking over the museum that bore his name. He thought,
I need this. I can make a success of it. I’m not going to let Neville take it away from me.
Already crossing the road at the Athenaeum, his mind was disengaging from the recent past. The revitalizing of the museum would provide an interest which would replace and redeem the dead undistinguished years.
    His homecoming to the detached, boringly conventional house in a leafy road on the outskirts of Wimbledon was no different from any other homecoming. The drawing-room was, as usual, immaculate. There came from the kitchen a faint but not obtrusive smell of dinner. Alison was sitting before the fire reading the
Evening Standard.
At his entrance she folded it carefully and rose to greet him.
    â€œDid the Home Secretary turn up?”
    â€œNo, it wouldn’t be expected. The Minister did.”
    â€œOh well, they’ve always made it plain what they think of you. You’ve never been given the respect you deserve.”
    But she spoke with less rancour than he had expected. Watching her, he thought he detected in her voice a suppressed excitement, half guilty and half defiant.
    She said, “See to the sherry, will you, darling? There’s a new bottle of the Fino in the fridge.”
    The endearment was a matter of habit. The persona she had presented to the world for the twenty-three years of their marriage was that of a happy and fortunate wife; other marriages might humiliatingly fail, hers was secure.
    As he set down the tray of drinks, she said, “I had lunch with Jim and Mavis. They’re planning to go out to Australia for Christmas to see Moira. She and her husband are in Sydney now. I thought I might go with them.”
    â€œJim and Mavis?”
    â€œThe Calverts. You must remember. She’s on the Help the Aged committee with me. They had dinner here a month ago.”
    â€œThe redhead with the halitosis?”
    â€œOh, that isn’t normal. It must have been something she’d eaten. You know how Stephen and Susie have been urging us to visit. The grandchildren too. It seems too good an opportunity to miss, having company on the flight. I must say I’m rather dreading that part of it. Jim is so competent he’ll probably get us an upgrade.”
    He said, “I can’t possibly go to Australia this year or next. There’s the museum. I’m taking it over. I thought I’d explained all that to you. It’s going to be a full-time job, at least at first.”
    â€œI realize that, darling, but you can come out and visit for a couple of weeks while I’m there. Escape the winter.”
    â€œHow long are you thinking of staying?”
    â€œSix months, a year maybe. There’s no point in going that far just for a short stay. I’d hardly have got over the jet lag. I won’t be staying with Stephen and Susie all the time. No one wants a