Inspector Hobbes and the Curse - a fast-paced comedy crime fantasy (unhuman) (25 page)

‘Oh,
I’m sure it will be just fine,’ I said, forcing a smile, my spirits sinking
into my tennis pumps.

She
smiled back, a little crookedly. ‘Thanks. Do you think we’ll need to get more food?’

I
could answer that question with confidence. ‘No, the old girl’s used to
catering for Hobbes so there’ll be plenty and, as for cutlery and stuff, there’s
four of everything. We’ll have loads, and there’ll still be lots left over for
feeding the ducks.’

‘Will
there be ducks? I like them but I thought there’d just be trees.’

‘Umm
… I don’t know, actually. I’ve never been there before, but there always seemed
to be ducks when I went on picnics as a boy.’ I remembered a flock of the
flat-footed, quacking villains creating mayhem, decimating our sandwiches; that
had been another unsuccessful Caplet family picnic.

We
drew up to her car.

‘Andy,’
she said, ‘this is my brother, Felix.’

I
noticed with a mixture of anger and jealousy that he’d taken possession of the
front passenger seat, that his clothes, khaki shorts and faded black polo
shirt, were as casual as his sister’s, yet he, too, looked smart and
well-groomed, even if he had rather overdone the aftershave. He nodded at me,
grinning, making me feel overdressed and awkward.

‘Felix,’
she said, ‘this is Andy.’

‘Hi,’
I said, attempting to smile back, feeling like a phoney, a dissembler. ‘But
this isn’t the first time we’ve met. Your brother helped me out when there was
a misunderstanding in the bookshop.’

‘Did
I?’ asked Felix, shrugging. ‘I don’t remember – but I’m glad I was of service,
though I’m sure you were capable of sorting things out for yourself.’

‘I
expect so,’ I lied. Things had a habit of blowing up in my face.

‘Right,’
he said, indicating the back seat, ‘shove that hamper in the back and hop in.’
Despite the car being a two-door model, he never offered to move.

My
attempted casual vault into the back turning into a trip, I sprawled across the
hamper, while trying to act cool. It wasn’t easy.

‘Let’s
go,’ said Felix.

As
Violet started the car, moving off, I struggled into a seat, retrieving my
boater from the footwell, trying to look like a man enjoying myself. Violet,
concentrating on her driving, didn’t speak, Felix poked buttons on his mobile,
while I fidgeted in the back, uncomfortable, the hamper pressing into my side.
The journey was uneventful, except for my boater blowing off as we rounded a
bend. Though I grabbed it, pleased with my reflexes, part of me wished I’d lost
the ridiculous thing.

The
silence being disconcerting, I was relieved when we reached the arboretum. Yet,
I wasn’t happy, for though I had reason to be grateful to Felix, I didn’t want
him there, even when he paid our admission money.

The
car coming to a stop, he sprang out.

‘Grab
that basket, Andy.’

He
didn’t ask: it was an order.

‘We’ll
find somewhere good to eat. I reckon over there’s promising.’ He gestured
across the valley towards the trees on the far side.

It
looked a pretty stiff walk for a man with a hamper.

‘Or
over there might be better,’ I said, pointing in the opposite direction,
towards a small meadow between stands of ornamental trees, no more than fifty
metres away, ‘It’s got tables and benches. It looks ideal.’

‘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?’