Page 57 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
We got called in to the dining room at that point, so I never got a chance to mention Cherry’s house idea to Phil.
Ah, well. It’d keep.
For a while after we sat down to eat, the conversation was all of the pass the gravy variety. Well, once we’d disposed of the grace. Greg would probably get defrocked or excommunicated if he dared to taste his dinner without giving due credit to the bloke upstairs first. Still, at least he kept it decently short. Actually, this one was shorter than usual, possibly because my stomach rumbled loudly right in the middle.
What? It’d been a long time since breakfast.
“Tom? Toby asked if you’ll be attending Amelia’s funeral.” Cherry looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth at the thought, but fair dues, she had just had a forkful of sprouts.
“Hadn’t planned to,” I said, just as Phil chimed in with “We’ll be there.”
We exchanged glances. He raised an eyebrow.
I shrugged. Fine. “When and where?”
“Tuesday at noon, in the cathedral,” Greg answered. “Toby thought it would be appropriate, as she gave so much of herself to the diocese.”
I had a sudden vision of Amelia literally giving herself to the bishop. On a silver platter. I just managed to hold back a snigger, so was saved from Cherry’s disapproving look and Greg’s sorrowful one.
“There will be a cold collation back here afterwards,” Greg went on, oblivious.
“If old Tobe’s the one pushing for her to have the big send-off,” I asked, “how come the party’s not over at his place? Come to think of it, where is his place?”
“Toby has a house out in the country. It wouldn’t be suitable,” Cherry said with a resigned note to her voice which suggested this wasn’t the first time dear old Toby had managed to avoid having to do the mine-host bit by living somewhere unsuitable.
I frowned, trying to picture my work diary. If I rang up Mrs. M. and asked if I could come an hour early, it’d be doable, ’specially seeing as lunch was thrown in. Well, I assumed that was what Greg meant by collation. If not, I could always pick up a sarnie somewhere. “Yeah, I guess I can make it. What’s it to Toby, though? Me going along, I mean.”
This time, it was Cherry and Greg who exchanged glances. Clearly they had a different system of sign language than me and Phil, as I couldn’t see what prompted it when Greg was the one who spoke. “Oh, Toby appears to have taken quite a shine to you, Tom.”
I stared. “Yeah? How does he treat the people he doesn’t like, then?”
Cherry made a weird snuffling sound.
I’m not saying it was a laugh, mind, but I’m not saying it wasn’t either.
Greg sent her a gently reproachful look. She stared him out until he coughed and topped up her wine.
Go, Sis.
Phil, being Phil, just took advantage of the way the conversation had turned to the bishop. “Interesting man, your bishop,” he said noncommittally.
Greg beamed. “Isn’t he?”
“Don’t suppose his duties leave a lot of time for a private life.”
“Ah! Well, that’s the interesting thing.” Greg’s eyebrows danced ponderously, like a couple of courting badgers of uncertain age. “The talk around Cathedral Close—although of course, one mustn’t gossip—is that he’s found himself a young lady. Certainly he’s been spending more time away from his desk of late. All work and no play, as they say . . .”
It seemed weird to think of a bishop at play. “Hey, does he still wear the purple and the dog collar when he goes out on a date? Wouldn’t that be a bit off-putting to the young lady?” Of course, maybe it was part of the attraction. I remembered how Greg and Cherry had met, and shot her a quick glance.
Her gaze was fixed firmly on her plate. But there was a definite pink tint to her cheeks, and I didn’t reckon it was all down to the wine.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” Phil asked Greg.
“Ah! Well, you see, nobody knows. Clearly someone who appreciates the value of discretion.”
“Married, is she?” Oops. Just slipped out. But yeah, my Amelia-on-a-plate theory was looking good.
Cherry glared at me. “Don’t be absurd. And for goodness’ sake, don’t go saying things like that where anyone else might hear.”
