A Fall from Grace Read Online Free Page A

a play.”
    Felicity looked at Chris with the assessing eye ofsomeone who herself wrote (as yet unpublished) novels, and liked things she could make use of.
    â€œHe is so immensely likeable,” she said. “I suppose people find that they can just talk away to him and he understands, and just by the process of talking they sort things out in their minds in a way that solitary thinking, and having all the options crowding in on you without any sorting or classifying, doesn’t do.”
    â€œI expect you’re right,” said Charlie. “Though I’m not sure I would want that sort of responsibility myself.”
    â€œResponsibility? How does he have responsibility?”
    â€œBecause even if all he does, most of the time, is listen, they’ll associate him in their minds with whatever decision they take.”
    â€œThey could, I suppose,” said Felicity thoughtfully. “Especially if they’re not logical thinkers.”
    â€œDo you see poor old Desmond as a clear-minded thinker? Oh hell—watch it. Here comes our own personal problem figure.”
    It was Felicity’s father, steaming over with a female in tow. Charlie and Felicity had agreed when speculating on Rupert’s future that what was most likely was that he would try to find a substitute for his dead wife. This would not be, or not primarily, to receive her conjugal pleasures, but the other things, including household help, laundry, shopping and cooking, above all ego-boosting. Felicity had already observed him returning to his bungalow with a variety of women after morning coffee, pub lunches or weekly shopping. When he now introduced Nancy Stoppard, Felicity remembered that she had already been mentionedby Chris Carlson as “a pleasant widow with a bit of money.” Jackpot!
    â€œNancy, this is my daughter, whom you’ve heard me mention, Felicity, and her husband who everyone calls Charlie for no good reason that I can see, and outside playing on the slide is little Carola, the light of my life, my only grandchild until the little one there decides to make his entrance into this wicked world.”
    Coggenhoe had a unique ability to make everything he said grate on his daughter. It had been explained to him many times why Dexter Peace had popularly become Charlie (and it didn’t need a mastermind to work it out), and he had in fact paid remarkably little attention to his granddaughter Carola since he’d come north, partly because she was too young to be useful to him, and perhaps partly because she was a child with a strong will of her own. Not the sort of female that Rupert tried to attract.
    â€œNice to meet you,” said Nancy, shaking hands. “Rupert has talked so much about you.”
    As she said this Charlie saw an expression waft quickly across her face as she realized that her wholly conventional words were not in this case true: Rupert Coggenhoe had talked very little about his family.
    â€œWhen is the baby due?” she asked, sticking to convention.
    â€œMay,” said Felicity. “Carola’s was a fairly easy birth, and I’m hoping this will be the same.”
    â€œBut until then we have to take good care of her, instead of her taking good care of us,” said her father. Grate, grate.
    â€œYou have always taken very good care of yourself, Dad.”
    â€œAnd she won’t have much time to take care of anyone except herself and the babe for a long time after the birth,” said Nancy. “Even Charlie and Carola will miss out.”
    â€œI’m used to it,” said Charlie. “Carola will create blue murder.”
    â€œThen you must stop spoiling her from now on,” said Nancy. “Restrict all your care to talking, sympathizing and advising.”
    Felicity laughed.
    â€œWe’ve just been talking about that. I don’t think there’s any need in Slepton Edge for that sort of service.”
    â€œYes, we do have