Burr. I counted ten and milled about the garden a minute or two. I locked the cottage and strolled casually up the lane to the chapel. Maybe our supervigilant constable had forgotten.
‘Morning, George.’
‘Morning, Lovejoy.’ As I’d guessed he was standing by the crossroads waiting for me to appear in the Ruby. ‘Just let me see you in that old crate, Lovejoy, that’s all.’ He gets depressed if I smile so I smiled like a politician and strolled back, fuming. I rang Sandy again.
‘I’ll scan for you, Sandy, after you give me a lift.’
‘You darling boy,’ he gushed. ‘Where to?’
‘To Marion’s. Then maybe Liz Sandwell’s.’
‘Oh,
pus
and
spit.
’ He sounded even more resigned than I did. ‘As long as you don’t expect me to come in too and positively gape at La Sandwell’s ghastly wallpaper.’ I said I didn’t. ‘And no offering that whore Marion lifts in our beautiful motor. If she comes with us she comes running behind
chained
to the mudguard.’ He tittered. ‘Mel just can’t stand her stinky perfumes.’ I said okay. ‘Promise,’ he demanded. ‘Say, cross my heart.’ I promised wearily. Even a phone call’s a right pantomime with Mel and Sandy.
They couldn’t come for me until five that afternoon, which was later than I wanted to be, but they were my only chance. I spent the day reading about Glastonbury and the various Grail legends. It was a wasted day. The whole story was as mystic and remote as ever. I was depressed by the numbers of experts who had broken their hearts trying to find the answer.
By the time they arrived I’d decided Henry was deranged. Their Rover had started out a royal blue saloon. It was now covered in a dazzling array of painted flowers, stripes, zigzags and twining greenery. A silvery fringe fibrillated all the way round the outside, above the windows. It was a mess. You can see why I’d left them till last.
Mel was sulking in the passenger seat.
‘Mel’s in a mood, Lovejoy,’ Sandy called, reversing in. ‘
Caveat emptor.
But don’t worry, dear. I can sulk better than him.’
‘Hello, Sandy. Mel.’ I got in the back. It felt like a hovercraft after mine.
‘I’d shake hands but I’m not to be trusted.’ Sandy gave me a roguish wink.
‘Marion’s, please.’
‘Mel and I had the most fearsome row,’ Sandy said. We revved into the lane and took off.
‘And for once, Lovejoy, it was
not
my fault,’ Mel rounded in his seat. ‘I’ve got this lovely clock by Tompion,
honestly
quite superbly divine, I
mean.
And this – this naughty little rascal here –’
‘Oh,
language
!’ from Sandy.
‘ – enters it into the next sale up in the Smoke. Honestly.’
‘Well,’ I said nervously. Some of their fights last weeks.
‘Don’t you dare agree with either of us, Lovejoy!’ Sandy cried. ‘Or I’ll smack your wrist. This conflict is only
apparently
about a clock. It’s actually about sepia upholstery. We aren’t speaking.’
‘Like me and George,’ I said. We halted at the chapel, Sandy happily grinding the gears.
‘Yes, we heard all about your drunken el butcho spree.’ He drew alongside George. ‘Hello, sweetiepie.’
‘Any of that and I’ll do you –’ George tried threatening.
‘Not here, love, surely?’ Sandy reached out a languid hand. George backed away. ‘Prosecute Lovejoy and I’ll park outside your house all night.’
‘And your mascara’s just wrong, George.’ Mel came alive long enough to add to George’s discomfiture.
‘Drive on, or I’ll book you for obstruction.’
‘No, George. Be serious.’ Sandy fluttered his eyelids. ‘Would
you
change our motor’s fringe back to gold? Isn’t silver on cerise and blue a
fearful
risk?’
George eyed the car with hatred. ‘It’s a bloody disgrace.’
‘Fasten your flies, George – no advertising, dear.’Sandy adjusted the driving mirror to see himself better and accelerated away across the front of the arriving post van, causing an ugly
‘Morning, George.’
‘Morning, Lovejoy.’ As I’d guessed he was standing by the crossroads waiting for me to appear in the Ruby. ‘Just let me see you in that old crate, Lovejoy, that’s all.’ He gets depressed if I smile so I smiled like a politician and strolled back, fuming. I rang Sandy again.
‘I’ll scan for you, Sandy, after you give me a lift.’
‘You darling boy,’ he gushed. ‘Where to?’
‘To Marion’s. Then maybe Liz Sandwell’s.’
‘Oh,
pus
and
spit.
’ He sounded even more resigned than I did. ‘As long as you don’t expect me to come in too and positively gape at La Sandwell’s ghastly wallpaper.’ I said I didn’t. ‘And no offering that whore Marion lifts in our beautiful motor. If she comes with us she comes running behind
chained
to the mudguard.’ He tittered. ‘Mel just can’t stand her stinky perfumes.’ I said okay. ‘Promise,’ he demanded. ‘Say, cross my heart.’ I promised wearily. Even a phone call’s a right pantomime with Mel and Sandy.
They couldn’t come for me until five that afternoon, which was later than I wanted to be, but they were my only chance. I spent the day reading about Glastonbury and the various Grail legends. It was a wasted day. The whole story was as mystic and remote as ever. I was depressed by the numbers of experts who had broken their hearts trying to find the answer.
By the time they arrived I’d decided Henry was deranged. Their Rover had started out a royal blue saloon. It was now covered in a dazzling array of painted flowers, stripes, zigzags and twining greenery. A silvery fringe fibrillated all the way round the outside, above the windows. It was a mess. You can see why I’d left them till last.
Mel was sulking in the passenger seat.
‘Mel’s in a mood, Lovejoy,’ Sandy called, reversing in. ‘
Caveat emptor.
But don’t worry, dear. I can sulk better than him.’
‘Hello, Sandy. Mel.’ I got in the back. It felt like a hovercraft after mine.
‘I’d shake hands but I’m not to be trusted.’ Sandy gave me a roguish wink.
‘Marion’s, please.’
‘Mel and I had the most fearsome row,’ Sandy said. We revved into the lane and took off.
‘And for once, Lovejoy, it was
not
my fault,’ Mel rounded in his seat. ‘I’ve got this lovely clock by Tompion,
honestly
quite superbly divine, I
mean.
And this – this naughty little rascal here –’
‘Oh,
language
!’ from Sandy.
‘ – enters it into the next sale up in the Smoke. Honestly.’
‘Well,’ I said nervously. Some of their fights last weeks.
‘Don’t you dare agree with either of us, Lovejoy!’ Sandy cried. ‘Or I’ll smack your wrist. This conflict is only
apparently
about a clock. It’s actually about sepia upholstery. We aren’t speaking.’
‘Like me and George,’ I said. We halted at the chapel, Sandy happily grinding the gears.
‘Yes, we heard all about your drunken el butcho spree.’ He drew alongside George. ‘Hello, sweetiepie.’
‘Any of that and I’ll do you –’ George tried threatening.
‘Not here, love, surely?’ Sandy reached out a languid hand. George backed away. ‘Prosecute Lovejoy and I’ll park outside your house all night.’
‘And your mascara’s just wrong, George.’ Mel came alive long enough to add to George’s discomfiture.
‘Drive on, or I’ll book you for obstruction.’
‘No, George. Be serious.’ Sandy fluttered his eyelids. ‘Would
you
change our motor’s fringe back to gold? Isn’t silver on cerise and blue a
fearful
risk?’
George eyed the car with hatred. ‘It’s a bloody disgrace.’
‘Fasten your flies, George – no advertising, dear.’Sandy adjusted the driving mirror to see himself better and accelerated away across the front of the arriving post van, causing an ugly
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