A Genuine Mistake by Ted Tayler (miss read books txt) 📗

stool by the bar. That was where Gus expected to see him most nights before Irene North entered the equation. There was no sign of Frank North’s widow this evening.

“Bert’s a tad squiffy,” whispered Suzie.

Gus had to agree. It appeared Bert had sat on that bar stool for a considerable time.

“Irene not with you tonight, Bert?” he asked.

“The Reverend is visiting her in the hospital,” said Bert. “Irene is suffering from a nasty bout of food poisoning.”

“Oh, we’re sorry to hear that, Bert,” said Suzie. “When did this happen?”

“The Reverend called the ambulance to Irene at lunchtime today, Miss Ferris.”

“Will you be visiting her tomorrow, Bert?” asked Gus.

“I’m not sure it’s my place to do that, Mr Freeman. People might talk.”

“You and Irene have become good friends,” said Gus. “Apart from the Reverend, who else in the village is going to drop in on her? A few of her older friends aren’t in the best of health, and public transport isn’t what it was. I’m sure that Brett will drive you there and back tomorrow evening. If push comes to shove, Suzie or I can arrange something.”

“That’s very neighbourly of you, Mr Freeman,” said Bert. “I haven’t troubled the hospital with my presence very often. But I do remember my Cora saying the days felt more like forty-eight hours long when she was stuck in the Royal United for days on end.”

“Will Brett be in later?” asked Suzie.

“It depends what time he gets back to Urchfont with the Reverend,” said Bert.

The landlord caught Suzie’s eye. Their table was ready.

“We’ll leave you to finish that pint of cider, Bert,” said Suzie. “We’re going to order a meal, and I expect you’ll be getting off home.”

Bert looked at the small amount left in his glass.

“They’re not closing early, are they?” he asked.

Gus shook his head. Bert wasn’t going to change his ways, not for Irene or anyone else.

Suzie examined the menu and the specials board.

“I can’t decide what to have,” she said.

“I’m having steak,” said Gus, “followed by sticky toffee pudding. I’ll get the drinks while you come to a decision. A large glass of Merlot and orange juice and lemonade coming up.”

“You’re not helping, Gus Freeman.”

“I am trying,” said Gus. “I’ve just spotted Clemency Bentham through the crowd. Brett won’t be long behind her. Would you prefer we eat alone tonight?”

Suzie nodded.

“Ask after Irene and tell Clemency to pass on our good wishes.”

Gus threaded his way back to the bar and spotted Clemency chatting to Bert. She gave Gus a wave. While Gus was waiting for his drinks order, Brett Penman tapped him on the shoulder.

“We’ve just returned from a visit to the RUH,” he said. “Did you hear about Irene from Grandad?”

“We did,” said Gus. “Suzie and I are dining, over there by the window. We’ll catch you later. How was Irene feeling tonight?”

“Rough,” said Brett. “They know it’s food poisoning, but they’re not sure what caused it. I have my suspicions.”

“By definition, it had to be something she ate,” said Gus.

“Or the culprit was an ingredient Irene put into one of her cocktail recipes,” said Brett. “I think Bert is drowning his sorrows over there because he grew the fruit or vegetable that Irene experimented with and is feeling guilty.”

“That may explain why he seemed reticent about visiting her in hospital,” said Gus.

“Did he?” laughed Brett. “I’ll get Clemency to gang up on him with me. She can’t visit Irene every day. There are several parishioners in greater need at present.”

“Clemency did mention that she would soon be writing a handful of her little speeches for visits to the crematorium,” said Gus. “I’m always nervous when the Reverend has a clutch of funerals.”

“I haven’t heard this one, Gus,” said Brett. “Does Clemency have form?”

“The Reverend certainly went up in Irene’s estimation when describing Frank’s past accomplishments,” said Gus. “Clemency got the details that she’d scribbled down on her home visits mixed up with another chap from the village. Frank became a well-known sportsman and someone respected by all who met him, something that couldn’t have been further from the truth if the Reverend had tried.”

“I’ll keep that one to myself, Gus,” said Brett, “I’m sure Clemency has improved.”

Gus picked up the tray containing his drinks order.

“I know she has, Brett,” said Gus. “I remember hearing a junior doctor saying that even with training, it was a tough ask to break bad news to a patient or their family members. They listened to senior doctors and consultants go through the spiel with such compassion and finesse and wondered whether they would ever get to be like that. I told the young doctor that it was the same for me as a young constable in Salisbury. My old sergeant sent me to tell the parents of an eighteen-year-old motorcyclist that he’d wrapped his bike around a tree and was never coming home. I was petrified. I made a terrible hash of it. I was almost in tears when I reported back to the station. He told me I’d get better at it if I stayed in the job for thirty years and had to do five hundred of them as he had. That young doctor got the message. Practice makes perfect.”

“We vets have to cope with that dirty job too, Gus,” said Brett. “Pet owners can get every bit as attached to their animals. Telling them that it would be kinder to put Fluff to sleep is a tough ask, as you say. Suzie’s waving, by the way. I think they’ve delivered your food. You’d better get over there before it gets cold.”

“Suzie must have found something on the menu she could eat, at last,” said Gus.

“Someone else with a dicky tummy?” asked Brett, looking at the contents of the