Completely Unexpected Tales Read online

  ‘What’s that?’ she cried. ‘Come again, Vicar.’

  ‘A clean mind in a healthy body,’ I answered. ‘It’s a family motto.’

  There was an odd kind of silence for quite a long time after this. I could see the women exchanging glances with one another, frowning, shaking their heads.

  “The vicar’s in the dumps,’ Miss Foster announced. She was the one who bred cats. ‘I think the vicar needs a drink.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘but I never imbibe. You know that.’

  ‘Then do let me fetch you a nice cooling glass of fruit cup?’

  This last sentence came softly and rather suddenly from someone just behind me, to my right, and there was a note of such genuine concern in the speaker’s voice that I turned round.

  I saw a lady of singular beauty whom I had met only once before, about a month ago. Her name was Miss Roach, and I remembered that she had struck me then as being a person far out of the usual run. I had been particularly impressed by her gentle and reticent nature; and the fact that I had felt comfortable in her presence proved beyond doubt that she was not the sort of person who would try to impinge herself upon me in any way.

  ‘I’m sure you must be tired after cycling all that distance,’ she was saying now.

  I swivelled right round in my chair and looked at her carefully. She was certainly a striking person – unusually muscular for a woman, with broad shoulders and powerful arms and a huge calf bulging on each leg. The flush of the afternoon’s exertions was still upon her, and her face glowed with a healthy red sheen.

  ‘Thank you so much, Miss Roach,’ I said, ‘but I never touch alcohol in any form. Maybe a small glass of lemon squash…’

  ‘The fruit cup is only made of fruit, Padre.’

  How I loved a person who called me ‘Padre’. The word has a military ring about it that conjures up visions of stern discipline and officer rank.

  ‘Fruit cup?’ Miss Elphinstone said. ‘It’s harmless.’

  ‘My dear man, it’s nothing but vitamin C,’ Miss Foster said.

  ‘Much better for you than fizzy lemonade,’ Lady Birdwell said. ‘Carbon dioxide attacks the lining of the stomach.’

  ‘I’ll get you some,’ Miss Roach said, smiling at me pleasantly. It was a good open smile, and there wasn’t a trace of guile or mischief from one corner of the mouth to the other.

  She stood up and walked over to the drink table. I saw her slicing an orange, then an apple, then a cucumber, then a grape, and dropping the pieces into a glass. Then she poured in a large quantity of liquid from a bottle whose label I couldn’t quite read without my spectacles, but I fancied that I saw the name jim on it, or TIM or PIM, or some such word.

  ‘I hope there’s enough left,’ Lady Birdwell called out. ‘Those greedy children of mine do love it so.’

  ‘Plenty,’ Miss Roach answered, and she brought the drink to me and set it on the table.

  Even without tasting it I could easily understand why children adored it. The liquid itself was dark amber-red and there were great hunks of fruit floating around among the ice cubes; and on top of it all, Miss Roach had placed a sprig of mint. I guessed that the mint had been put there specially for me, to take some of the sweetness away and to lend a touch of grownupness to a concoction that was otherwise so obviously for youngsters.

  ‘Too sticky for you, Padre!’

  ‘It’s delectable,’ I said, sipping it. ‘Quite perfect.’

  It seemed a pity to gulp it down quickly after all the trouble Miss Roach had taken to make it, but it was so refreshing I couldn’t resist.

  ‘Do let me make you another!’

  I liked the way she waited until I had set the glass on the table, instead of trying to take it out of my hand.

  ‘I wouldn’t eat the mint if I were you,’ Miss Elphinstone said.

  ‘I’d better get another bottle from the house,’ Lady Birdwell called out. ‘You’re going to need it, Mildred.’

  ‘Do that,’ Miss Roach replied. ‘I drink gallons of the stuff myself,’ she went on, speaking to me. ‘And I don’t think you’d say that I’m exactly what you might call emaciated.’

  ‘No indeed,’ I answered fervently. I was watching her again as she mixed me another brew, noticing how the muscles rippled under the skin of the arm that raised the bottle. Her neck also was uncommonly fine when seen from behind; not thin and stringy like the necks of a lot of these so-called modem beauties, but thick and strong with a slight ridge running down either side where the sinews bulged. It wasn’t easy to guess the age of a person like this, but I doubted whether she could have been more than forty-eight or nine.

  I had just finished my second big glass of fruit cup when I began to experience a most peculiar sensation. I seemed to be floating up out of my chair, and hundreds of little warm waves came washing in under me, lifting me higher and higher. I felt as buoyant as a bubble, and everything around me seemed to be bobbing up and down and swirling gently from side to side. It was all very pleasant, and I was overcome by an almost irresistible desire to break into song.

  ‘Feeling happy?’ Miss Roach’s voice sounded miles and miles away, and when I turned to look at her, I was astonished to see how near she really was. She, also, was bobbing up and down.

  ‘Terrific,’ I answered. ‘I’m feeling absolutely terrific’

  Her face was large and pink, and it was so close to me now that I could see the pale carpet of fuzz covering both her cheeks, and the way the sunlight caught each tiny separate hair and made it shine like gold. All of a sudden I found myself wanting to put out a hand and stroke those cheeks of hers with my fingers. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t have objected in the least if she had tried to do the same tome.

  ‘Listen,’ she said softly. ‘How about the two of us taking a little stroll down the garden to see the lupins?’

  ‘Fine,’ I answered. ‘Lovely. Anything you say.’

  There is a small Georgian summer-house alongside the croquet lawn in Lady Birdwell’s garden, and the very next thing I knew, I was sitting inside it on a kind of chaise-longue and Miss Roach was beside me. I was still bobbing up and down, and so was she, and so, for that matter, was the summer-house, but I was feeling wonderful. I asked Miss Roach if she would like me to give her a song.

  ‘Not now,’ she said, encircling me with her arms and squeezing my chest against hers so hard that it hurt.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said, melting.

  ‘That’s better,’ she kept saying. “That’s much better, isn’t it?’

  Had Miss Roach or any other female tried to do this sort of thing to me an hour before, I don’t quite know what would have happened. I think I would probably have fainted. I might even have died. But here I was now, the same old me, actually relishing the contact of those enormous bare arms against my body! Also – and this was the most amazing thing of all –1 was beginning to feel the urge to reciprocate.

  I took the lobe of her left ear between my thumb and forefinger, and tugged it playfully.

  ‘Naughty boy,’ she said.

  I tugged harder and squeezed it a bit at the same time. This roused her to such a pitch thafshe began to grunt and snort like a hog. Her breathing became loud and stertorous.

  ‘Kiss me,’ she ordered.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Come on, kiss me.’

  At that moment, I saw her mouth. I saw this great mouth of hers coming slowly down on top of me, starting to open, and coming closer and closer, and opening wider and wider; and suddenly my whole stomach began to roll over inside me and I went stiff with terror.

  ‘No!’ I shrieked. ‘Don’t! Don’t, Mummy, don’t!’

  I can only tell you that I had never in all my life seen anything more terrifying than that mouth. I simply could not stand it coming at me like that. Had it been a red-hot iron someone was pushing into my face I wouldn’t have been nearly so petrified, I swear I wouldn’t. The strong arms were around me, pinning me down so that I couldn’t move, a