‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘I do,’ Sidney continued as surely as he could. He had never been that keen on dogs. ‘Indeed I do.’
‘Then I’m so pleased,’ Mrs Redmond continued. ‘Because Miss Kendall asked me to give him to you. Isn’t he gorgeous? He’s only eight weeks old.’
‘I didn’t know you knew Miss Kendall?’
‘She met my husband on a train. Then she telephoned.’
‘It’s very odd that she didn’t say anything about it.’
‘She wanted it to be a surprise.’
‘Well, it’s certainly that, Mrs Redmond. Perhaps I am to keep him for her until she comes to collect him?’
‘Oh no, Canon Chambers. I don’t think you understand. This dog is for you. He’s a present.’
For a moment Sidney could not quite take in what was being said to him. ‘But why?’
‘Miss Kendall thought you were rather down in the dumps. She said that you needed cheering up. There’s nothing like a Lab for company, and the black are better for conversation I find.’
Sidney was astounded. He could not understand how Amanda could have done such a thing. Why of all things in the world would he have need of a dog? It was hard enough looking after himself.
‘But I’ve no idea how to . . .’
Mrs Redmond interrupted. ‘I’ve brought a booklet with instructions and there’s a basket for him in the car. The important thing is to get him house-trained as soon as possible. When he’s older, of course, you can take him on your visits. He’ll be very popular.’
‘I dare say . . .’
‘Shall we set up a space in the kitchen? By the back door, I think. I’ll need some newspaper.’ Mrs Redmond picked up a copy of the
Church Times
. She was quite unstoppable. ‘This will do.’
Sidney gave himself one last chance, ‘But I knew nothing about this. I haven’t the foggiest idea how to look after a dog.’
‘You’ll soon get used to him. Try looking at the vicarage from the puppy’s point of view. You’ll get a whole new perspective on things, Canon Chambers, a dog’s eye view of life. I find it so very consoling. After a while, you’ll wonder how you ever did without him.’
Mrs Redmond put the Labrador down on the floor and the puppy made a last-ditch bid for freedom. ‘Steady now, Archie . . .’
‘He’s called Archie?’
‘You can change the name, of course. But you need to decide soon so he can get used to your commands.’
‘I don’t think I’ve given a command since the Army . . .’
‘Well, perhaps it’s time you resumed, Canon Chambers? There are only five to remember: “come”, “sit”, “stay”, “heel” and “lie down”. You need to be clear and consistent. Then you can add words such as “basket”. Talking of which I must go and fetch it before I forget. You will keep the vicarage nice and cosy for him, won’t you? It’s quite cold in this kitchen.’
‘It is winter,’ Sidney observed, ‘and I was not expecting a dog.’
Mrs Redmond failed to detect a tone that hovered between despair and irritation. ‘Of course you’ll have to keep him in a limited space until he’s fully house-trained. He’ll need a blanket too. I’ve brought some food to start you off and I think I have got some old toys as well. They might do when I look in later in the week to see how you are getting on . . .’
Sidney sat down on a kitchen chair as Mrs Redmond busied herself around him and then fetched the dog’s basket from her car. ‘It will be like having a child . . .’ he muttered. ‘And without a wife . . .’
Mrs Redmond re-entered the room. ‘I am sure you won’t have any trouble finding a wife, Canon Chambers . . .’
It now appeared that his visitor had selective hearing. ‘People do keep telling me . . .’
‘A handsome man like you . . .’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Of course. Everyone says so. You’d be quite a catch.’
Sidney allowed himself a moment of vanity. He knew that on a good day he had a faint air of Kenneth More about him but he didn’t like to dwell on it.
Mrs Redmond put down the dog basket and looked at him. She had sensed his weak spot. ‘I am sure Miss Kendall might consider it.’
‘I don’t think that’s likely . . .’
‘Oh dear. Never mind.’ Mrs Redmond resumed her preparations. ‘Still, once you get to know Archie I am sure you can tell
him
your problems instead of Miss Kendall. Then no one else need know . . .’
‘I’m not sure my problems are worth discussing.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Canon Chambers. Archie won’t mind. You can tell him anything. Anything at all . . .’
‘I suppose I can.’
Mrs Redmond began rubbing her hands together, a nervous gesture that indicated her duty was done. ‘I’d better be going now. If you have any problems with him or need any advice just pop round, but I am sure that Archie is going to make a vast improvement to your life.’
‘He’s certainly going to change it,’ Sidney mused. ‘I’ll see you to the door, Mrs Redmond.’
‘Don’t you worry about that, Canon Chambers. I’ll let myself out.’
Sidney looked down at Archie. He would have to try and pick him up, he decided, but as soon as he made his first attempt the dog proved resistant and gave a small yelp. Indeed, it was a frustrating while before Sidney was able to scoop him up in his arms.
Honestly.
What was he doing?
How could anyone think that such a pet might be suitable?
It was absurd and it quite put him off Amanda. What can he have been thinking when he told her everything? How could she ever have conceived that he might want a dog? What on earth did they have in common? He should leave Grantchester whenever he could, Sidney thought, and find the most remote parish where little happened apart from the need to maintain faith. He thought of Cornwall, West Wales, the Northumbrian border with Scotland: anywhere with a low crime rate and parishioners who were keen to come to church rather than murder each other.
Archie jumped on to his lap. His honey-brown eyes had an expression of helpless trust. This was a creature who was asking to be looked after, whose affection was unconditional, and who would always be pleased to see him. This, surely, would be a more rewarding responsibility, a healing presence amidst the death of the old. Yes, perhaps all might be well after all and Amanda had been right and this would be . . .
Ah.
Perhaps not.
Mrs Maguire was coming through the front door with her shopping bags and Sidney’s shepherd’s pie.
‘It’s only me,’ she called.
At first Mrs Maguire did not notice the new arrival, walking into the kitchen, putting her things on the table, speaking all the while and telling Sidney that he would have to leave so that she could get on with her work. ‘What is the
Church Times
doing on the floor?’ she demanded. ‘Are you throwing it away? The wastepaper basket is under your desk.’
‘It is there for a reason, Mrs Maguire.’
‘I can’t think what that could be.’ She noticed the basket. ‘And what, in God’s good name, is that?’
‘I think I can . . .’ At that moment Sidney’s new puppy scampered up to Mrs Maguire and gave her right ankle a playful nip.
‘Heavens to Betsy!’ Mrs Maguire cried out. ‘An animal!’
‘He is a present from Miss Kendall.’
‘What the dickens is going on? How long is he staying?’
‘For ever, it seems.’
‘What on earth do you mean, Canon Chambers? I hope you don’t expect me to clean up after that thing?’
‘I certainly don’t, Mrs Maguire. At the moment I am not sure what to do. The puppy is an extremely recent arrival.’
‘What’s he called?’
‘Archie. But I think I’m going to change his name. Now you mention it, Dickens sounds rather a good name for a dog.’
Mrs Maguire was unimpressed. ‘None of us needs a puppy yapping away. They never stop, you know.’
‘I am sure he will grow. I was hoping that he might prove to be something of a companion . . .’
‘He’ll be nothing but trouble, mark my words. And you, Canon Chambers, have enough trouble in your life already.’
The day did not pass well. Dickens, for that was the name Sidney decided upon, wet the kitchen floor immediately Mrs Maguire had cleaned it, the church roof had sprung a leak under the weight of the melting snow and Sidney forgot his shepherd’s pie in the oven. As he ate the burnt remains with his curate, Leonard advised Sidney that he really should see the coroner once more. They needed to know whether Mrs Livingstone’s cremation could take place, if her daughter’s marriage could proceed and if not, what Inspector Keating was going to do about it.
Sidney found all the demands on his time even more irritating than usual. He knew that he didn’t actually
like
Derek Jarvis. But now he decided he was not too keen on Dr Michael Robinson either. Or Mrs Maguire. Or his curate. Or his dog. Or even Amanda. In fact the monastic life suddenly seemed far more appealing than ever before.
Later that afternoon, Sidney rang the bell of the coroner’s office and was shown through to a small waiting room. Derek Jarvis was efficiently polite. ‘You’re taking quite an interest in this case, I see . . .’
‘Apparently there is some considerable disquiet in the town. People have stopped going to see Dr Robinson.’
‘There are other doctors.’
‘We can’t hound a man out of town because of an unfounded rumour.’
Derek Jarvis sighed. ‘I can assure you, Canon Chambers, that I have been professional throughout this investigation and will continue to be so.’
‘I cannot believe that Dr Robinson is a murderer.’
‘Well,’ Derek Jarvis concluded. ‘So far, despite all the anxiety, it appears that he is not.’
‘Morphine?’
‘A high level but nothing more . . .’
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘I am not disappointed. I am wary. As I said, a high level of morphine.’
‘But within acceptable limits.’
‘
Just.
’
‘Then you will release Mrs Livingstone’s body?’
‘I will. However, as I am sure you are aware, other sudden elderly deaths have occurred.’
‘Anthony Bryant . . .’
‘Indeed.’
Sidney could not let the situation finish like this. He knew that he should act in a more priestly manner. ‘I know it is hard to act in good faith with someone you may not like. As a Christian . . .’
‘Please, Canon Chambers, do not make such assumptions or jump to conclusions.’
‘I was merely suggesting . . .’
‘My work is scientific and objective. My personal feelings are kept in abeyance.’
‘Very well,’ Sidney answered. ‘When will you have completed your examination of the second body?’
‘All in good time.’
Sidney looked at the coroner and wondered whether there was ever such a thing as ‘good time’. It was going to be a long wait.
As he walked back through the streets of Cambridge, Sidney stopped to admire a pipe-smoking snowman that had been given an air-raid warden’s helmet. He heard a sudden movement behind him, turned to see who it was, but there was no one there. Perhaps he was being followed? But why would anyone want to do such a thing? He tried to put his suspicions down to the fact that he was cold and anxious, but the feelings of unease grew as he resumed his walk. He was also hungry after the debacle of his lunchtime shepherd’s pie. There was nothing for it but to enter Fitzbillies and buy yet another one of their Chelsea buns. He would find a discreet way of eating it on his way home.
Although his purchase was successful, his initial attempt to eat the bun was foiled by the presence of the young female journalist he had seen outside the police station. In the pause in which he tried to remember her name Helena Randall shot out her first question. ‘A successful visit to the coroner, Canon Chambers?’
Sidney paused. ‘I am not sure what you mean?’
‘Are there any positive results?’
Sidney stopped. ‘I would like to help you but what I am doing is rather confidential.’
Helena Randall took out her notebook. ‘And are there degrees of confidentiality?’ she asked.
‘I like to think not.’
‘And will you be going to see Dr Robinson or his fiancée again?’
Sidney had never met someone so pale and so determined. ‘I haven’t seen them today.’
‘But you have seen them recently? When?’
‘In the last few days, but I don’t know whether this is anything that might be of interest to your readers. There is no evidence of any wrongdoing.’
‘There are coincidences.’
‘It is winter, Miss . . .’
‘Randall. Helena Randall. I think you are a police spy, Canon Chambers.’
‘I have never heard anything so absurd. There may be spies in Cambridge but I can assure you that I am not one of them.’
‘So you admit to knowing spies?’
‘Of course I don’t. Now please; I must be going home.’