The Room on the Second Floor (3 page)

Determined not to let him retreat into the past, Duggie was quick to snap him out of it. ‘Bloody hell, Rog, can’t you think about anything else? So tell me something. Why did they call those big hairy dogs after the old boy then? Surely he didn’t have a tail and a barrel round his neck?’

‘No, of course not. It was the abbey…’ He stopped. Even Professor Roger Dalby knew when he was being made fun of.

‘You could do with a dog in the new house, you know.’ Duggie drained his champagne glass just in time to slip it onto a passing tray and replace it with another. Chivalrously he offered it to Linda, but she waved it away with a light shake of the head. He remembered that she rarely drank. This was something else she had in common with her boss. She turned back to Roger, catching his arm in her eagerness.

‘Oh yes, Roger, get a dog please. It would be such great company.’ Her eyes sparkled and her hand on his arm felt good. Eager to please her, he immediately agreed. In fact, if she had suggested getting a giraffe, his reaction would probably have been the same.

‘Of course. We must have a dog. There is so much land at the new place, we could have a whole pack of them.’

She thrilled at the use of the pronoun
we
, but made no comment.

‘Will you help me select one, please?’ Delighted to see her nod, he carried on. ‘I suppose we could even consider a Saint Bernard…’ This time both of them groaned as one, so he hastily qualified it with a vague ‘or whatever…’.

Then, to the surprise of both of them, he did not dive back into the Middle Ages.

‘I hardly knew Uncle Eustace at all, you know.’ His voice was low.

‘Did you ever meet him?’ Linda prompted him gently, conscious that personal revelations did not come easy to him. She was rewarded by an unambiguous answer.

‘Only at the funeral.’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘My parents were both killed in a car crash. I was only nineteen. I was halfway through my first year at Cambridge when they had the accident. It all seemed so surreal somehow. One moment I was a normal student in the process of breaking away from my parents and then, overnight, they were dead.’

He swallowed the glass of champagne in one gulp before carrying on. The expression on his face was bleak. It took the thirty-five years of rigorous training in the suppression of her emotions by her Methodist parents to stop Linda from sweeping him into her arms and clutching him to her breast. She did at least grip his arm tightly. Duggie reached out to a passing waitress and replaced the empty glass with another full one. Roger didn’t even notice. He carried on.

‘I didn’t see him in the church. It was outside in the churchyard in the pouring rain. After that awful bit, where you pick up a handful of earth and drop it into the grave, I suddenly felt an arm around my shoulders. A flask of brandy was pushed into my hand. I took a mouthful and turned to see him; a mane of black hair and a beard and moustache like one of the Merovingian kings.’

There was a pause, during which both Linda and Duggie waited for him to veer off, and take refuge in his own private medieval world. But, to their surprise and gratification, he persevered in the modern era.

‘He gave me a hug and told me he was the black sheep of the family. That’s what he said, “the black sheep”. He said he had loved his sister very dearly and regretted the fact he had seen so little of her. Then he kissed me on both cheeks and left without another word. Can’t have been with me for more than thirty seconds. It was only that night I found the hipflask in my pocket. It had McKinnon Marine etched in the side. That was my mother’s maiden name: McKinnon.’ He paused awkwardly, as if regretting this rare glimpse into his personal life.

Both Linda and Duggie, who knew him so well, were struck by this rare insight. This was, however, the end of the revelations. He fell silent. His mind was clearly already heading back to the Middle Ages when Duggie stepped in.

‘A toast.’

He held up his glass in their direction. The erstwhile university professor raised his glass absently. Linda snatched a mineral water from a passing waitress and joined in, unaware of the regret in Roger’s eyes as her hand was removed from his arm. Duggie waxed lyrical.

‘Here’s to your life at Toplingham Manor. May you find happiness and success. No, hang on a minute. You already have. How stupid of me to forget. So, here’s to your life at the manor and happiness and success to the rest of us. All right?’

Their glasses touched, and they drank the health of the lucky man. Then, remarkably, Roger Dalby stayed in the present day. Looking up, he asked the question that had been on his mind since seeing the manor for the first time, a few weeks before.

‘Now what do I do with a damn great house like the manor? Linda and I only need a couple of rooms at most.’ Oblivious to her surge of hope, he continued. ‘And another couple for me to sleep and eat in. I’m still left with over thirty spare rooms, and some of them are huge, as big as this ballroom.’

The crest of the wave of Linda’s emotions crashed back into its trough again. ‘Why don’t you start some kind of business?’ Her voice gave nothing away. ‘Maybe a hotel?’

But she tailed off, realising that even Basil Fawlty would make a better hotelier than Roger. He would no doubt be able to take an order for dinner, but would then most probably disappear into his study for the rest of the day. The customers would be left to starve. Hours later he would be found, looking up some arcane fact to do with his beloved saint. Duggie, however, had a practical solution.

‘A club. That’s what the old place would lend itself to. A private club with leisure facilities and entertainment. After all, there is a decent golf course hidden away in the grounds. All right, it’s a bit overgrown and only nine holes, but even so… And the old squash courts won’t need too much to get them back in operation. Toplingham Country Club. I can see it now.’

His arms were spread out wide, his eyes screwed shut, as he visualised the scene. A tasteful gold-lettered sign, pinned to the stone pillars outside the manor, floodlit at night, naturally. As he did so, his outstretched right hand brushed against something reassuringly warm and soft. He was delighted when he opened his eyes to see Tina Pound, coming over to offer her congratulations to Roger. He treated her to his most engaging smile.

‘Hello again. You’ve come back to me. I assume you know our illustrious host and hostess?’

Linda reddened, but managed a smile at Tina. They knew each other well from the university. ‘Hi, Tina. I didn’t know you and Douglas were friends.’

Duggie was quick to reply on her behalf, his hand catching hers and drawing her closer. ‘We may only have met a few minutes ago, but I feel we know each other so very well already.’ He kissed her bare shoulder affectionately.

Tina gave Linda a smile in return, while gently fending him off. ‘Half man, half octopus. Just my type.’

Linda watched their easy exchange enviously. Somehow they made this relationship thing look so very easy. She glanced across at Roger. As far as establishing a relationship with him was concerned, easy it most certainly wasn’t.

Roger nodded absently towards Tina. His mind was still on the manor, and Duggie’s suggested change of use.

‘All very well, Duggie. The club’s a great idea, but who could run it for me?’ He seemed unexpectedly taken with the idea. ‘Now that I am finally able to concentrate on the definitive history of St Bernard, I can hardly find the time to run a club. I might as well have stayed on in the department. Unless…’ His eyes met Duggie’s and, with an unusual degree of perspicacity, he immediately saw the answer to his question. ‘Unless you would feel like doing it – as a favour to me, Duggie? After all, your background in estate agency is sort of the same field, isn’t it?’

Duggie felt there was little to be gained from pointing out the many differences between selling houses and hospitality management. He settled for a broad smile of acquiescence, and the chance to run his right hand lightly down across the taut buttocks of Tina Pound. She didn’t slap him and he took that as a good sign.

‘Do you know? I think I might well be up for it.’ He sounded very keen.

Tina glanced across at him, a delicious feeling of anticipation warming her. He certainly wasn’t backwards at coming forwards.

‘Does that mean you’d consider giving it a try?’ Roger Dalby was genuinely pleased that his oldest friend might be prepared to help him out. For her part, Linda, despite her reservations about Duggie as a bad influence, could see that he would be a natural for the position.

‘The more I think about it, the better it sounds.’ Duggie was definitely warming to the idea. ‘I’ll give it some thought and get back to you.’

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted. Linda’s smile faded as she saw the scruffy figure of Edgar Lean stagger into view. The grubby lapels of his suit had clearly absorbed almost as much wine as he had. Any inhibitions he might have had, had been drowned by the alcohol.

‘Linda. You’re lovely. Give us a kiss.’ He lurched towards her.

‘Mr Lean, really!’ She affected her sternest voice as she addressed him. He chose to ignore her, raising his hand unsuccessfully to his mouth to stifle a burp.

‘Go on, darling. You know you want to.’

‘Bloody hell, Edgar. What do you think you are doing?’

Linda was impressed by the way Roger sprang to her defence. He gave Edgar Lean an icy glare.

‘Behave yourself, please.’

‘Keep your shirt on, Prof.’ He leered malevolently at him. ‘Only you get to touch the lovely Linda, is that it?’

Roger took a step forward, his temper rising.

Duggie felt it incumbent upon himself to intervene, before the host got embroiled in the fracas that the other man was clearly trying to provoke. Regretfully relinquishing the warmth of Tina Pound, he slipped swiftly across to position himself between the two men. With his broad shoulders turned towards Roger, he spoke to Lean in a friendly voice.

‘I think it might be best if you were to leave now, don’t you? I think you have maybe taken advantage of the hospitality a little too much.’

In return, Lean re-directed his hatred towards him. He hissed. ‘I’m not drunk, you twat. This is between me and?’ Duggie did not let him finish.

‘I’m a peace-loving person. But it’s only fair to warn you that the last person to talk to me like that ended up with a broken jaw.’ He moved a few inches closer and lowered his voice into a confidential whisper. ‘So why don’t you be a good boy and get the fuck out of here now. I really think you have outstayed your welcome.’

There was a brief, stunned, silence before Edgar Lean demonstrated that he was maybe not quite as stupid, or as drunk, as he looked. He turned on his heel and lurched out of the room. Duggie cleared his throat, rearranged his lapels and returned to the waiting presence of Tina. He was gratified to feel her hand grip his bicep. She squeezed it appreciatively.

‘Sure you aren’t a nightclub bouncer? It looked as if you’ve done that before a few times.’

‘Did you really break somebody’s jaw?’ Linda, to her amazement, found herself quite relishing this outpouring of testosterone from the men around her.

‘My God, no.’ Duggie had reverted to type. ‘Not my kind of thing at all. I was just counting on it not being his either.’

Roger, who had driven him to A&E to have his dislocated finger relocated the day after the incident in question, did not disabuse them. Indeed, Roger, over the years, had been with him in several other similar circumstances. If Duggie preferred to be thought of as mild-mannered and peaceable, that was his affair.

‘Nasty little wretch.’ Roger watched the door close behind Lean. ‘And trying to insinuate that I would lay a finger on you, Linda.’

Chance would be a fine thing
, she thought wistfully.

Tina from Geography asked the question on all their lips.

‘Who the hell was he, and what on earth was that all about?’ She looked around the others. ‘Just too much to drink, or was there more to it than that?’

‘He’s one of my postgrads.’ Roger was recovering his aplomb. ‘He’s not very happy about my passing him over to another supervisor for his doctorate. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he had an unhealthy interest in Linda.’

‘I thought I could hear the old green-eyed devil. Have you been aware that you have another suitor, Linda?’ Tina smiled at Linda’s discomfiture. Her relationship, or the lack of it, with Roger had been a standing joke across the campus for years. To her delight, Roger jumped in, right on cue, to further demonstrate his lack of awareness.

‘What do you mean, another suitor?’ Turning to Linda he asked, ‘Have you got a suitor?’

Once again Duggie confirmed his credentials as a diplomat, and earned a glance full of gratitude from Linda. He stepped in and steered the conversation into safer territory.

‘Now, Roger, you really should go and devote some time to your guests.’ He glanced around the crowded room. ‘Maybe you could see if you can find second cousin Mabel. As for me, I have to leave now.’ He glanced across at Tina. ‘Something’s just come up.’

As Linda lead Roger back into the throng, Duggie heard her reassuring him. ‘Of course I haven’t got a suitor. Why ever would you think that?’

Duggie turned to Tina and tightened his grip on her.

‘Now, where were we?’

Tina had by now got the measure of him.

‘I seem to remember you had just confessed that you were a social pariah. And yet I’m still here.’ She felt the warmth of his body against hers, and smiled. ‘I’ve always thought the direct approach was best. Why don’t you stop beating about the bush. Drop the corny lines and say what’s on your mind.’ She saw his eyes flick down to her bosom. ‘So, is there something you’d like to get off your chest, Mr Scott?’ She smiled sweetly.

‘And where might I find this bush you would like me to beat about in?’

‘Use your initiative, Duggie.’

She felt herself drawn towards him, until his lips were at her ear.

‘Would you like a shag then, Tina?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

Chapter 3

‘That was your friend Duggie there. Did you see him?’