A Change of Pace Read Online Free

There’s a guy in our Life department who’s quite an expert.’
    At this point Pol had looked at Bet, obviously expecting her to speak up, say that of course they would accept Pete’s offer, it would be absurd not to. But she hadn’t spoken up, she’d just sat there and sulked, preferring to remain a member of the rank and file and let Bernie take responsibility for organising the heating — or anything else for that matter —in their part of the house. Was that what twenty-eight years of marriage did to you? Made you lose the power of positive decision-making? Made you work on the principle that if there was a man in the vicinity, it might be easier — even better — if he took charge? Pretty feeble, really, when you thought about it, but there it was. And Bernie, the self-opinionated young ass, had his way; the net result being that while the Redfords would bask in a steady temperature of seventy-five degrees this winter, the rest of them, compelled to make do with an as yet untried and extremely ancient Rayburn and a few assorted electric fires, would freeze.
    Central heating, or the lack of it, wasn’t the only dissimilarity between the two sections of Hopton Rectory either. Pete and Pol’s half — the south wing, consisting of the rector’s old study, a butler’s pantry and the back stairs leading to two bedrooms and an antediluvian bathroom —had already undergone gigantic changes, and although still far from complete, it was well on its way to becoming the luxury pad Pol claimed was absolutely essential to country living. Not really in Bet’s style, of course, which was one consolation, but nevertheless pretty impressive. In contrast, to date, the Brandon/Sparsworth end of the house had been left virtually untouched. Apart from some necessary adjustments to the plumbing, a few new tiles on the roof and the sanding of the floor in Bet’s sitting-room — she wasn’t going to have Miles’s Persian rugs slumming it on six layers of khaki linoleum — nothing had been done. Bernie was the expert on DIY, let him get on with it. All she was interested in was the garden anyway.
    The phone rang as she was scrabbling through one of the many plastic shopping bags they’d brought with them, vainly looking for the beefburgers. It was the first time the phone had rung since they arrived; its bell sounded wheezy and full of dust.
    ‘Hullo?’
    ‘Oh, hullo. Am I speaking to the rector’s wife? I’m chairman of the Little Podlington Unmarried Mothers’ Association —’
    ‘I’m sorry, Pete, but I’m not in the mood for jokes. It’s been the most ghastly day. Say what you have to say and then get off the line, I’m in the middle of cooking the first meal Diz and I’ve had in twenty-four hours.’
    ‘Don’t be like that, ducky, I was only ringing to see how you’re getting on ... ’
    The oven-ready chips were in the oven and she was upstairs making up the beds, when Diz and Tib arrived back, accompanied, inexplicably, by a cross-looking young man in a raspberry-coloured vest and jeans. Now what? Bet pushed up the window and stuck her head out. ‘Hullo?’
    ‘Is this your dog?’
    ‘Of course it is. Who — ?’
    ‘You’re lucky I haven’t called the police, then. It’s vicious. It chased our cat up a tree, and when my wife tried to stop it, it went for her. You should keep the animal under proper control, you know, instead of letting it run wild all over our estate.’
    ‘He’s talking utter rubbish, Mum. Tib wasn’t out of control at all, and if people can’t tell the difference between a friendly greeting and a vicious attack, all I can say is they should get themselves a doctor. I just —’
    ‘Diz!’ It came out in a sort of strangled shriek, and if nothing else, served to stop the two young men in their tracks. Having gained the advantage she’d better make use of it —was this positive decision-making? ‘I don’t wish to hear any more, Desmond. Take Tib round to the kitchen at