Read Online Mad Hatter's Holiday by Peter Lovesey - Free Book Online Page A

could not forget the red-headed equestrienne. She had looked some way short of retirement. ‘Admirable, Ma’am. I’ve always held that it’s a capital doctor who still takes an interest in a former patient. There’ll be plenty for him to visit here, I’m sure. It’s a favourite spot for the convalescent, I’ve heard, what with its ozone and its chalybeate water.’
    ‘He’s visiting a poor old soul in Rottingdean this very afternoon, dear. Otherwise he’d be here with us. There’s dedication for you! Between ourselves, though, he doesn’t care very much for the sea-shore. He rather disapproves when I bring the children on the beach. It’s not the thing in the season, is it? I find the sea irresistible, though. There, that’s my lower class origins revealed! Now I can see from the way you’re crouching that you aren’t in your element, darling.’
    ‘Oh, on the contrary, I . . . s>. . . . !s>. . . . !s>.’
    ‘Sit on the stones, my dear. Give your legs a rest. The shingle’s cleaner than you think. Now tell me all about Jason’s misadventure. Where were you when you spotted him—on the prom?’
    ‘Oh. That is—er—yes.’ The conversation was drifting into dangerous straits. ‘May I ask you a question, Mrs. Prothero?’
    ‘Anything you like, my dear—provided Prothero wouldn’t disapprove.’
    Heavens! What did she expect? ‘Do you always favour this part of the beach?’
    She laughed for no evident reason. ‘Why yes. It is altogether convenient. Guy likes to bathe from the machines near the pier there, Jason has his Punch and Judy show and I adore watching the excursion-yachts. Ah, Bridget has found Guy—the only useful thing that madam has done today.’ She waved to her stepson. He had come by way of the sand at the water’s edge, for ease of walking. Bridget trotted after him superfluously.
    ‘A fine-looking lad. There’s an upright look about him,’ said Moscrop, as though he meant it.
    ‘D’you think so, darling?’ (he fervidly hoped she would drop the endearment when Guy joined them). ‘He is not the easiest boy in the world to manage. It must be beastly for him to have to accept me as his stepmother.’
    The cue for a compliment. ‘Quite the contrary, Ma’am. He could not possibly find anyone more acceptable. His difficulty, I suggest, is that you are far too chic to be thought of in a maternal capacity.’
    Guy approached with hand extended. Not before Moscrop had seen Zena Prothero blush. Such timing! He stood to meet the boy with the casual air of Irving after some brilliantly-delivered line on the stage of the Lyceum.
    ‘Guy Prothero. I understand you saved my stepbrother’s life, sir.’
    ‘I wouldn’t put it as strongly as that. Simply returned him to his mother.’
    ‘We’re grateful, even so. Give me your card and I’ll inform my father. He’ll wish to show his appreciation. D’you smoke cigars?’
    Damned impudence! ‘That won’t be necessary.’ He addressed himself to Zena: ‘Now that your stepson has returned, I’ll take my leave, Ma’am. If I might just recover the telescope from young Jason . . . s>. . . . !s>. . . . !s>.’
    She had given Guy a thunderous look. ‘You can’t leave like this. I shan’t allow it. You must have dinner with us at the very least. Where are you staying, Mr. Moscrop?’
    He touched his bowler in as decisive a parting gesture as he could devise. ‘Most generous of you, Mrs. Prothero, but I really couldn’t put you to so much trouble. Your husband is a busy man—‘ ‘Fudge! If he’s too busy to meet the hero who saved his son’s life, I want to know the reason why!’
    Guy said something in an aside to Bridget.
    ‘What was that?’ demanded Mrs. Prothero.
    ‘We should leave it to Father to make the arrangements. Do you carry cards, Mr. . . . ? But perhaps your name is pub- lished in the Fashionable Visitors’ List? ‘ The note of sarcasm was blatantly calculated to insult.
    ‘Guy! Kindly leave this to me! Take