Read Online October Men by Anthony Price - Free Book Online Page B

be protected from outrage, the need to speak up for the one cancelling the need to keep silent for the other.
    “Because he isn’t here?” The wrong word now would spoil everything.
    She nodded cautiously. She was still with him.
    “That’s just it, Clarkie. He really ought to be here.” This, he judged, had to be the moment: the risk had to be taken now whether he liked it or not. “You know that some of the work Dr. Audley does is very important—“ if she didn’t know it she would be pleased nevertheless at the importance of her Mr. David “—and very secret. So secret that I’m not allowed to tell you about it.”
    He paused. “But when you do that sort of work, Clarkie—when you do it as well as he does—you make enemies. Like people who don’t agree with you, or even people who want your job. You know the sort of people.” He nodded towards the closed door. “Like the fat one out there—he’s been waiting a long time for David—for Dr. Audley—to make a mistake—“
    “But he’s only gone off on holiday, Mr. Richardson, sir,” Mrs. Clark protested. “They haven’t been away together, not for a proper holiday anyway, since little Charlotte was born. And they both needed a holiday, ‘specially Mr. David. He’s been like a bear with a sore head just recently, he has.”
    Richardson’s heart sank: in her own innocence she was only confirming Oliver St. John Latimer.
    “And they’d planned this for a long time, had they?”
    “Lord—no, sir! Mr. David only decided just a few days ago. And he was that excited—he hadn’t been like that since the baby came, sir—he had us running to get everything ready. He was like a boy with a new bicycle, sir!”
    “Excited?” Richardson grabbed at the word like an exhausted swimmer reaching for a lifebelt. “You mean happy ?”
    “Happy as a sandboy, sir—and so was Mrs. Audley to see him like it. He’d been that grumpy with us both, and then suddenly he was laughing and joking—“
    “Because of the holiday?”
    “Well, I suppose so, sir. But it was the night of the dinner party he first brightened up.”
    “The dinner party,” Richardson grinned at her. He mustn’t spoil it now, letting elation outrun discretion—there was much more to come still if he played his cards in the right order. “You mean it was one of your apple pies that put him in a good mood?”
    The dinner party. … He mustn’t probe too quickly into that, or too obviously. She was staring at him now as though she sensed the lightening of his mood, but the slackening of tension was bringing her closer to tears.
    He leaned forward and patted her knee again. “It’s okay, Clarkie —I really am on your side—on your side and on Charlie’s and on David’s. And between us I reckon we’ve got ‘em where we want ‘em—the other side.”
    She drew a long breath. “You mean you can do that—what you said you could—for him?”
    “I can and I will. But they couldn’t do anything to him anyway, you know—not when it was self-defence and he’d got Laurie Deacon speaking up for him.” He smiled. “You never really had anything to worry about.”
    She shook her head. “You don’t know, sir. Charlie’s quiet and he seems slowlike, but he’s got a terrible temper when he’s roused. When we were children he near killed another boy once—he’d been teasing Charlie, you see. And there was that business during the war.”
    “What business was that? He’s never talked about it.”
    “He wouldn’t, no. But it’s still there in his mind after all this time, I know, because he has nightmares about it. Not often, he doesn’t, now. But he used to have them regular as clockwork.”
    “About the war?”
    “About this farmhouse in France, sir.” She stared at him doubtfully, then at the edge of the table. “I never told anyone about it before exactly, not even Mr. David… But there was this farmhouse… Charlie hadn’t done any fighting, because he was in the