other warily. He had not come downstairs again the previous evening; Janet had taken him some soup. He stood up and smiled uncertainly.
‘Hello, Mr Treevor.’
He looked blank.
‘I’m Wendy Appleyard, remember – Janet’s friend from school.’
‘Yes, yes. There’s some tea in the pot, I believe. Shall I –?’ He made a half-hearted attempt to investigate the teapot on my behalf.
‘I think I might make some fresh.’
‘My wife always says that coffee never tastes the same if you let it stand.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Good idea. Yes, yes.’
I was aware of him watching me as I filled the kettle, put it on the stove and lit the gas. He had put on weight since I had seen him last, a great belt of fat. The rest of him still looked relatively slim, including the face with its nose like a beak and the bulging forehead, now even more prominent because the hairline had receded further. His hair was longer than it used to be and unbrushed. He wore a heavy jersey that was too large for his shoulders and too small for his stomach. I wondered if it belonged to David. He did not refer to the incident yesterday and nor did I.
‘I hope you slept well?’ he said at last.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘The noises didn’t keep you awake?’
‘The noises?’
‘Yes, yes. You tend to get them in these old houses.’
‘I didn’t hear any. I slept very well.’
He gathered up his newspaper. ‘I must be going. It’s getting quite late.’
‘Where’s Janet?’
‘Taking Rosie to school. Will you be all right? Can you fend for yourself?’
Once he’d established my ability to do this, at least to his own satisfaction, he pottered out of the kitchen. I heard him in the hall. A door opened, then closed and a bolt smacked home. He had taken refuge in the downstairs lavatory.
He was still in there after I’d drunk two cups of tea, eaten a slice of toast and started the washing-up. A bell jangled – one of a row of bells above the kitchen door. I guessed it must be the garden door, so I dried my hands and went to answer it. There was a small, sturdy clergyman on the doorstep. He touched his hat.
‘Good morning. Is David in?’
‘I’m afraid he’s up in town at a conference. Janet’s out but she should be back soon. May I take a message?’
‘Do you happen to know when he’s coming back?’
‘This evening, I think.’
‘I’ll ring him tomorrow or perhaps drop in. Would you tell him Peter Hudson called? Thank you so much. Goodbye.’
He touched his hat again and walked briskly down the path where Rosie had played hopscotch to the gate in the wall. The lawn on either side of the path was still white with frost. At the gate, he turned, glanced back and waved.
That was my first meeting with Canon Hudson. A meek and mild little man, I thought at the time, with one of those forgettable faces and a classless voice that could have come from anywhere. If I had to have dealings with a clergyman, I thought, I’d much prefer he looked and sounded like Laurence Olivier.
In the evening David came home from London. The mood of the house changed. He arrived in the lull between Rosie being put to bed and supper. I hadn’t been looking forward to seeing him. Janet and I were in the kitchen, Mr Treevor was dozing in the sitting room.
David kissed Janet and shook hands with me.
‘Did you have a good time?’ Janet asked him.
‘Most of it was hot air but some useful people were there. Any messages?’
‘On the desk in the study. Rosie might still be awake if you want to say good night to her.’
‘Just a few phone calls I should make first.’
‘Oh, and Peter Hudson called.’
Already at the kitchen door, David turned. His face was sharper than it had been. ‘And?’
‘It was this morning – Wendy saw him. He said he’d phone or drop in tomorrow.’
‘He’ll want to talk about the library. I’ll see if I can get hold of him now.’
He left the room. I avoided looking at Janet.
‘He’s concerned about this library business,’ Janet said hastily, as if in apology. ‘There’s a proposal to merge the Theological College Library with the Cathedral one. Hardly anyone uses the Cathedral Library, you see, and it would be much better for everyone if it was housed in the Theo. Coll. Peter Hudson’s the new Cathedral librarian so his opinion’s very important.’
‘The marriage of two libraries? Gosh.’
She winced. ‘It’s more than that. You know David’s boss is getting on? It’s an open secret he may retire at the end of the summer term.’
‘And David wants the job?’ I smiled at her and tried to make a joke of it. ‘I thought the clergy weren’t supposed to have worldly ambitions.’
‘It’s more that David feels he could do useful work there. Canon Osbaston likes him. He’s the principal. So does the bishop. But the appointment needs the agreement of the Cathedral Chapter as well. It’s a bit like a school, you see. The bishop and the others are like the college’s board of governors.’
‘So where’s the problem?’
‘Some of the canons aren’t very enthusiastic about David getting the job. Including Peter Hudson.’
Janet began to lay the table. The Byfields usually ate in the kitchen because it was warmer and because the dining room was a day’s march away up a flight of stairs and at the other end of the house.
‘Hudson seemed quite a nice little man,’ I said. ‘Inoffensive.’
Janet snorted. ‘That’s a mistake a lot of people make.’ She sat down suddenly and rubbed her eyes. ‘God, I’m tired.’
I took the cutlery from her and continued laying the place settings. She fiddled with one of the napkin rings, rubbing at a dull spot on the silver.
‘It’s not really about this library,’ she went on slowly. ‘Or even about the job. It’s about the college itself. They’re talking about closing it down.’
‘Why should they do that?’
‘Because applications are down and money’s tight. It’s a problem all over the country.
