‘Oh, no,’ said Felix. ‘We don’t want to be next to the car park and a brisk walk will do us all a power of good. Besides, while we’re getting there I can update Violet on the project.’
He turned, putting his arm around his sister’s shoulders. She gave a small, apologetic smile as he led her away down the hill. I struggled after them as best I could, sagging beneath the weight of the hamper, sweat prickling my skin, my shirt sticking to my back. I couldn’t make out much of what Felix was saying, though it seemed to be mostly business talk about markets, investments and returns: pretty dull stuff, and not what I would have chosen to talk about on such an evening.
Nature, at least, was on my side. Butterflies dipped and swooped between banks of wild flowers, bumblebees busied themselves in patches of red clover and the air smelled fresh and earthy combined with the scent of warm grass and blossoms. I’m sure I would have appreciated it, had it not been for Felix hogging Violet, leaving me to struggle behind like a pack mule, the hamper seemingly gaining weight with every step. As we reached the bottom of the valley, starting upwards, the path became rough and uneven, the grass slippery, between spiky gorse bushes with yellow blooms. By the time we reached the woods, where roots were conspiring to trip me, my head was pounding with the heat, my breath coming in short gasps. A malevolent twig struck my head, knocking my hat to a ludicrous angle over my eyes, leaving me unable to see the snare of brambles about to hook my leg. I fell to my knees, letting loose an involuntary oath, yet holding fast to the basket.
‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ said Felix, taking the hamper from my outstretched arms. Violet, smiling, hesitated, as if about to help me up, but followed her brother as he strode away.
‘He really is a stubborn fool,’ said Felix, ‘but he’s willing to make a deal now he’s seen what can happen, and if we can persuade that buffoon Binks about the need for progress, then we’ll be getting somewhere. I’ll get Mike to have a few words with him and see if he can’t change his mind.’
Standing up, I brushed myself down, appalled how grievously the knees of my trousers had suffered, the crisp white cotton having been stained green from the lush grass, brown from the damp earth, the sharp creases having turned to saggy bags, tiny, bloody dots pointing to where thorns had penetrated. Muttering rude, biting words under my breath, arms and shoulders aching, I followed Violet.
‘This will do perfectly,’ said Felix, having carried the burden all of twenty steps into a glade.
To be fair, which I wasn’t inclined to be, it was a great spot, the deep green carpet of turf beneath our feet as soft as fleece, a multitude of daisies everywhere, bright as stars in the night sky, the fragrance of wild flowers intoxicating.
‘What did you do with the rugs?’ asked Felix, setting the hamper down in a patch of buttercups.
‘Rugs?’
‘The ones you were sitting on when we drove here. You haven’t left them in the car have you?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you.’ He shook his head. ‘You didn’t expect me to carry them as well as the picnic did you? You’d better go and get them – it’ll give me a chance to finish my conversation with Violet. We’ll see you back here in a few minutes. OK?’
‘But the grass is really soft,’ I said. ‘We won’t need rugs. What do you think?’ I turned to Violet who opened her mouth as if she might agree. She didn’t get the chance.
Felix nodded. ‘It’s soft enough, I’ll grant you, but it’s still damp after all the rain. You wouldn’t want my sister to catch her death would you?’
‘No … but.’
‘Of course not. Now, run along and get those rugs. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll return, right? If you wouldn’t mind getting a move on, I’m quite hungry. By the way, when you’re down there, you’ll find a camping chair in the boot. You might as well bring that too, there’s a good chap.’
Though dazed, confused and furious, for some reason I turned back towards the car.
‘Oh, Andy!’ He called me back after a few seconds. ‘You’ll need these.’
Violet handed him the car keys, which he threw towards me, or, rather, at me. Though it was some consolation to catch them cleanly, my mood was black as I stamped back towards the car.
The twig I’d run into earlier, still being up to no good, speared my boater, pulling it from my head. Putting it back on, though it now incorporated a dent and a finger-sized hole, I continued my long trek, muttering savage imprecations against picnics in general and picnics with Felix in particular, wishing I’d stayed at home, thinking about trying to hitch a lift back. Only the fear that no one would stop for a sweaty prat dressed like a dishevelled music-hall comedian and the realisation that I’d be leaving Mrs G’s picnic basket behind stopped my escape. So far, Violet had barely spoken to me, while Felix was treating me like a lackey. Despite having known all along that it would go wrong with Violet, the end seemed to be approaching even faster than I’d anticipated, and prior knowledge didn’t make the prospect any easier.
Nevertheless, I picked up the rugs and Felix’s chair and lugged them all the weary way back. I guessed each trip must have taken me about twenty minutes, so I’d been in the arboretum for an hour and all I’d got was hot, dirty, sweaty, thirsty, angry, miserable and tired. Felix and Violet watched me all the way back. Reaching them at last, I dumped the gear on the grass.
‘Good man,’ said Felix, ‘and now you must have a drink after all your exertions.’
I nodded, speechless, dripping.
‘Come on, Violet,’ he said, ‘get the man a drink. He deserves one.’
She opened a bottle of ginger beer, filled a glass and handed it to me.
‘Thank you,’ I said, taking a swig, delighted it had stayed cool in its stone bottle, enjoying its spicy, sweet flavour.
She smiled. I smiled and took another pull at my glass. A drop going the wrong way, I started choking and gasping for air.
‘Are you alright?’ she asked, her hand on my shoulder.
‘Does he sound alright?’ said Felix. ‘Take his glass. I’ll sort him out.’
As soon as she took it, a blow between my shoulder blades felled me as if I’d been pole-axed. Sprawling in the grass, I groaned, forcing myself to stop choking for I couldn’t have endured a repeat performance.
‘Is that better?’ asked Felix.
I nodded and he reached down, pulling me to my feet. He was much stronger than he looked.
‘Good. Now spread those rugs and let’s eat.’
Violet did as commanded and, as I helped her lay the food out, he erected his chair, sitting back into it with a sigh. Her hand brushing mine gently, deliberately, I hoped I’d been premature in pronouncing the death of the affair, if that’s what it was.
‘Excellent job, you two. Thanks,’ said Felix, smiling as the last of the meal was set before him.
Somehow, those few simple words nearly made everything alright. I grinned up at him, repenting my evil thoughts, for though his earlier bulldozing had reminded me of Rex Witcherley, Felix could display a charm the Editorsaurus never would.
Nevertheless, I still felt like a dog at his master’s feet, hoping for scraps. Not that there was any danger of being left with scraps, for the old girl, as usual, had excelled herself and I was delighted to see that, as well as ginger beer, she’d packed a couple of bottles of wine.
Violet picked them up. ‘Red or white?’
‘Red,’ said Felix and I in unison.
‘Just as well,’ she said, ‘they’re both red.’ She uncorked a bottle, pouring a glass for each of us, and handed them round.
Felix sniffed and took a sip, his eyebrows rising in appreciation. ‘This is good,’ he said, ‘where did you get it from?’
‘Umm …’ I said, scratching my head, ‘I think they’re probably from Hobbes’s cellar. He keeps a few down there and enjoys a drop now and again, when he’s not working, of course.’
‘Well,’ said Felix, staring into the glass, ‘this is
truly excellent. Is it all as good as this?’
‘Well … umm … it all tastes good to me. I don’t know much about it, though I think this is the normal stuff. He’s got a lot more that he keeps for special occasions.’
‘The Inspector knows his wine, then. I’m surprised after what I’ve heard about him. Does he keep a large cellar?’
‘Umm … pretty large, probably. Several hundred bottles I’d say.’
‘Then he’s a lucky man,’ said Felix taking another sip. ‘I don’t suppose you know his supplier?’
‘I don’t. I’ve never actually seen him buy any; it’s always just been there.’
‘Well, it must have come from somewhere.’ Felix leant forward, picking up the bottle. ‘I don’t recognise the label. What d’you make of it?’ He glanced at Violet.
She sniffed the glass, rolling a drop round on her tongue, inhaling. ‘It’s like drinking bottled sunshine. This is beautifully balanced, elegant, sensuous, spicy wine. I’ve rarely tasted anything to equal it.’
‘Me neither,’ said Felix. ‘And you say he’s got hundreds of bottles of this? And keeps better ones? That’s amazing.’
‘Is it?’ I asked, surprised. ‘I mean I … umm … like the stuff, but I didn’t think it was anything special.’
‘It is very special,’ said Felix, holding his glass up to the sky. ‘I’d like to get hold of a few crates of it myself. Would you mind asking him from where he gets it?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Good, man,’ said Felix pausing. ‘Still, I can’t help wondering how an inspector can afford such quality. Police pay must be better than I thought.’
‘Do you reckon it’s worth a bit?’
‘It should be. The only wine I recall coming close to this in the last few years was a vintage Burgundy from Domaine Chambourge. I think that one retailed at around five hundred pounds a bottle, if you could get it.’
I was stunned to learn anyone would spend so much on a bottle of wine. The most I’d ever paid had been ten pounds for a bottle of some white plonk I’d bought from a bloke in the Feathers, intending to impress a girl at a party. It hadn’t worked and I could still remember the way she’d pursed her lips on realising I hadn’t chilled it, the way she’d rolled her eyes when I drove a corkscrew through the screw-top, the way she’d clicked her tongue when I spilled a drop down her front, the way she’d walked out without a word after the first sip. I’d thought her overly judgemental until, taking a gulp to console myself, I felt as if the wine was stripping the enamel from my teeth, forcing me to drink about a gallon of water to douse the burning in my mouth and throat. Since then, I’d been happy to knock back any wine that left my teeth intact. Even so, I had enough palate remaining to have realised that Hobbes’s stock was rather nice, without enough to realise it was exceptional. For a moment I wondered if they were having me on, yet their expressions as they sipped the stuff reminded me of one of the windows in the church, one depicting Saint somebody-or-other ascending to heaven, convinced me they meant it.
To me, the food, though no better than I’d expected, was even more impressive than the wine. As for Felix and Violet, after their first bite of one of Mrs G’s cheese sandwiches, they ate in awed silence. Yet the sandwiches were the least of the delights, for she’d packed bite-sized meat pies that self-destructed in the mouth, leaving just a wonderful savoury taste, a crispy salad with a dressing that made me want to cry for joy, succulent cold meats and so many wonderful things that six of us could have dined with no hardship. As it was, I think we all rather stuffed ourselves, leaving little.
Felix sighed as he finished the last slice of fruit cake, refilled his glass and raised it. ‘To Andy, who knows how to picnic. I haven’t eaten so well in years.’
‘It was no bother,’ I said, truthfully, ‘except that it was heavy to carry.’
‘No problem,’ he said, ‘I’ll carry it back. In the meantime, would you care for a top up?’
After he’d filled my glass, I stretched out on the rug.
‘That was lovely,’ said Violet, placing her hand on mine, giving it a squeeze, ‘thank you.’
Feeling very full, very satisfied and very relaxed, as the shadows lengthened, I sprawled at Violet’s side as we chatted about art and literature and business. In truth, Felix and Violet did the chatting, while I, trying to look intelligent, grunted occasionally to express agreement. Yet, when Violet leaned back with her head against my thigh, I felt as happy as I’d ever been.
‘Isn’t it a glorious evening,’ I said.
‘It is,’ said Felix, ‘and, of course, it’s the solstice.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Violet, raising her head, ‘I nearly forgot.’
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘The summer solstice,’ said Felix, with a snort of derision, ‘the longest day, the shortest night.’
‘Oh, yes … of course … when the nutters prance round the stones on Hedbury Common.’
‘So the local rag says,’ said Violet, smiling, ‘though I wouldn’t go so far as calling them nutters; they’re probably just having fun. After all, Midsummer’s traditionally a time of celebration.’
‘That’s not how my father saw it,’ I said, reflectively. ‘He used to reckon it was all downhill towards winter from now on.’
‘Sounds like a cheery soul.’
‘Not really,’ I said, about to relate an amusing anecdote from my childhood.
Felix’s mobile phone chirruped, just as the evening sun disappeared behind a cloud.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, getting up, pulling the phone from his pocket. ‘Felix King … Oh, it’s you Mike … I said I wasn’t to be disturbed … I see … Right, I’d best see to it at once … I’m at the arboretum, just past Hedbury, with Violet and her … friend, so pick me up in the lay-by in front of the kiosk as you come in …’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.’ He pushed the mobile back into his pocket.
‘Must you go?’ asked Violet.
‘I’m afraid so, something’s come up,’ he said and grinned. ‘It’s about time we had some good news on the project.’
Though I tried to look suitably sad at his imminent departure, my heart felt as if it were turning cartwheels of delight. Admittedly, things had improved considerably since we’d started the meal, but the food and drink, superb though they were, were not the real reasons for the picnic. What I wanted was to have her to myself, and it was beginning to look as if I might get my way. The affair was back on and, with the sun escaping the cloud’s embrace, warmth flooded my soul.
‘Actually, Andy,’ said Felix, stretching, slicking back his hair, ‘I was hoping to have a word with you this evening and, since I really must get a move on, I’d appreciate you walking back with me. It will give Violet a chance to pack up.’
Annoyed that he expected me to jump at his command, angered at his assumption that Violet would pack up on his say so, I should have just refused. Perhaps I would have, had I not been so polite, had Felix not been the sort of man who expected obedience and always seemed to get it. Without knowing quite why, I found myself walking with him.
‘That was a splendid picnic and an excellent wine,’ he said, ‘and I’d really appreciate it if you could source it for me.’
‘Sauce it?’
‘Find out from where the Inspector obtains his supplies. Or you could ask him if he’d mind selling me a few crates. Money won’t be a problem once this project comes to completion, and it’s starting to move, so I won’t quibble about the cost. Would you do that for me, Andy?’
‘Umm … yes. I expect so,’ I said, thinking his request not sufficiently important to drag me away from Violet, although the distant rumble of thunder suggested the picnic would have been curtailed soon anyway.
‘Good man,’ said Felix, pleasantly. ‘And now there’s something else I’d like to say, so you’d do well to listen.’
His voice had changed. All hint of friendliness had vanished, along with th
e commanding, yet reasonable, tones of a leader of men. In an instant it had grown cold, the tone reminding me a little of Hobbes when having a chat with a miscreant.
‘I make a point,’ he said, ‘of taking a long, hard look at Violet’s male friends. As her older brother, I’ve always looked out for her, always wanted what’s best for her.’
‘Good,’ I said, wondering where he was going, fearing I could guess, ‘I’m … umm … pleased to hear that.’
‘She’s very attractive, don’t you agree?’
I nodded.
‘But there are some, hangers-on, toadies, rogues and parasites, who find her wealth more attractive. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Umm … yes. I suppose so.’
‘So, which category do you fit into, Mr Caplet?’
‘Me? None of them … I just like her and …’
‘You say that, yet know nothing about her, except that she is rich. I, on the other hand, know rather a lot about you: you have no job, no home and no prospects. Am I right?’
‘Well …’
‘You live on Hobbes’s charity and I have learned that Violet has already bought you an expensive meal. Is my information correct so far?’
‘Sort of … umm … but …’
‘It appears to me that you are a chancer and a parasite. She is smart, successful and cultured; you are a worthless waste of breath. Would you agree that a worthless waste of breath is not a suitable man for Violet?’
‘Yes … but I’m not …’
‘You seem to have taken her in for the moment but, in all honesty, I can’t see what she sees in you. However, I do not intend her to be hurt again.’
‘But … I … I’d never do that,’ I said, feeling a chill run through me, shivering, despite the evening still being so warm.
‘Men such as you have hurt her in the past and it has resulted in breakdowns. I will not go into the details. Suffice to say, I will not allow you to be the cause of such unpleasantness. When my car arrives, you will return to her, help her pack and carry the picnic and rugs back to her car. Afterwards, you will ask her to drive you straight home and you will not see her again. Understood?’
Inspector Hobbes and the Curse - a fast-paced comedy crime fantasy (unhuman) Page 19