LITMIR.BIZ

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claim to be, it seems unlikely that we shall meet again. On the other hand …’

      He walked stiffly from the room, his shoes squelching gently on the stone-flagged floor.

      ‘Your grandfather seems a bit upset,’ probed Dalziel, sucking in a noisy mouthful of broth.

      ‘Yes, he usually does, these days. It’s not surprising, I suppose, when you’ve lost your last surviving child. Especially as he thinks I killed him.’

      The door opened again at this point and the arrival of Tillotson, Louisa Fielding, Uniff and the Indian Maid masked Dalziel’s surprise and prevented him from following up Bertie’s statement.

      ‘Hello,’ said Tillotson. ‘I say, are your things all right? I hope there’s no permanent damage.’

      ‘If there is,’ said Dalziel, ‘I’ll send you a bill.’

      ‘That’s right, captain,’ said Uniff. ‘Don’t let him polite talk you out of your legal rights. I’m a witness. Hey, Mavis!’

      The Indian Maid came over to them with two mugs of soup. She was really a striking girl with much of Uniff’s prominence of feature, but regularized into something approaching beauty. The likeness was confirmed when Uniff said, ‘Mave, meet the captain. Assumed command in our hour of need. Captain, may I present my sister?’

      ‘How do you do, Mr Dalziel,’ said the girl. Her voice confirmed his assessment of Uniff’s origins. It was unrepentantly Liverpudlian.

      ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Dalziel.

      ‘It was you we saw on the bridge, wasn’t it? You looked as if you were going to walk into the water.’

      ‘Or on it,’ said Uniff. ‘The second coming, nineteen-seventy style.’

      ‘He hasn’t had much luck stilling the waters this time,’ said Bertie, peering out of the chintz-curtained window.

      The door opened once more and Mrs Fielding came in.

      ‘Everyone here? Good. Is there plenty of soup to go round? I can’t see Herrie. Or Nigel.’

      ‘Grandpa was here. But Nigel hasn’t been down, has he?’

      Bertie looked enquiringly at Dalziel who shook his head.

      ‘I hope he’s not moving around in his damp clothes,’ said Mrs Fielding. ‘Lou, darling, run upstairs and find him. Make him come down.’

      ‘But I’ve not had my soup yet,’ protested the blonde girl. ‘Bertie can go. He’s nearly finished.’

      ‘He’ll take no notice of Bertie,’ her mother answered firmly. ‘Or worse, even if he was on the point of coming Bertie would make him change his mind. You go.’

      ‘Oh bugger,’ said Louisa. But she went.

      Mrs Fielding came over to the table now and smiled down at Dalziel.

      ‘I just rang the garage,’ she said.

      ‘I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have bothered, I was just going to,’ answered Dalziel.

      ‘No, it struck me you wouldn’t know which was nearest or best for that matter. Anyway they were a bit worried when I told them where the car was. There’s a great deal of water all along that road now and they aren’t sure their breakdown truck can get along. Once it stops raining the water will go down pretty quickly, of course.’

      ‘So I’m stuck,’ said Dalziel. ‘Well, that’s life. Well, if I can use your phone, I’ll try to find myself a hotel and a taxi. How close can a taxi get?’

      ‘He’s worried about another trip with Charley,’ said Bertie Fielding. ‘Be comforted, it’s just on the south side that the water lies, Mr Dalziel. The road to the north is a bit damp, but passable. I’d say the Lady Hamilton in Orburn would be your best bet, wouldn’t you, Mother?’

      Dalziel groaned inwardly, visualizing the under-manager’s mixture of dismay and triumph at his return.

      ‘Nonsense, Bertie,’ she replied. ‘It’s expensive, unhygienic, and nearly ten miles away. Mr Dalziel will stay with us until he can pick up his car. Please do, Mr Dalziel. We would all be delighted to have you.’

      Dalziel looked slowly round the room and saw delight manifest itself in a variety of strange ways. It masqueraded as indifference on Mavis’s face, amused knowingness on her brother’s, vague uncertainty on Tillotson’s and downright dislike of the idea on Bertie’s. Only on Bonnie Fielding’s did delight appear in anything approaching full frontal nudity.

      ‘I’d be delighted to stay,’ said Dalziel.

      ‘Mother,’ said Louisa from the door.

      ‘Hello, darling. Did you find Nigel?’

      ‘No, but I found this in his bedroom.’ She held up a piece of paper.

      ‘The little sod’s taken off again.’

       4

       Premises, Premises

      The general atmosphere of resigned annoyance told Dalziel he was in the middle of a routine upset rather than a major disaster. Nigel, it seemed, had left home to seek his fortune on several previous occasions. Looking at the flaking paint and faded wallpaper around him, Dalziel felt that perhaps the boy had a point. It would take a fool or a clairvoyant to seek a fortune here.

      The current weather, however, added a new dimension of concern to this latest escape, for his mother at least. His brother and sister seemed completely unworried, though the Uniffs whether out of sympathy or politeness were much more helpful.

      ‘He can’t have gotten far,’ said Hank. ‘Poor kid. He’ll soon have his bellyful of this rain.’

      It was not the most diplomatic use of the idiom. Quickly Mavis stepped in.

      ‘Hank, take a look outside. He might be sheltering quite close. If not, we’ll take a run down the road in the car.’

      Hank left, and Mrs Fielding sat down at the table. She appeared quite composed now.

      ‘Lou, darling,’ she said. ‘How’s the soup? Nigel will be freezing when he gets back.’

      ‘There’s oodles left,’ said Bertie. ‘We’re hardly down below yesterday’s tide mark.’

      ‘I like it best when we reach that ox-tail we had at New Year,’ said Louisa. ‘That was my favourite.’

      Indifferent to this family humour, Dalziel picked up the note which Mrs Fielding had dropped on the table.

      I am leaving home because (1) my plans for the future don’t coincide with yours (2) I have no desire to live off money coined by my father’s death and (3) there are some people I don’t care to have near me. Nigel. PS. I don’t mean you. I’ll write when I’m settled.

      He turned it over. It was addressed to the boy’s mother.

      Hank returned.

      ‘Any sign?’ asked Mavis.

      ‘No. But the rowing-boat’s gone.’

      ‘He always threatened to run away to sea,’ said Louisa.

      ‘Lou, shut up, will you?’ said Mrs Fielding. ‘Oh damn. I wish he hadn’t taken the boat. I don’t like the thought of him on the water.’

      ‘Shall I go after him in the punt?’ volunteered Tillotson, a suggestion which drew derisive groans from everyone except Mrs Fielding and Mavis. And Dalziel too, though he groaned internally.

      ‘Thank you,

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