Chapter and Hearse Read Online Free

actually was – someone trained in the coefficients of expansion of all metals.
    Charlotte never disabused them of this misapprehension, and when the more knowledgeable responded with remarks such as, ‘Gold and silver, I suppose,’ she would say uncertainly, ‘I think so, but I’m afraid it’s not really my field…’ That people did not talk much about their work went without saying in all banking circles, and the conversation would move on.
    â€˜I dare say that the owner might agree to that sort of repair being taken into account,’ the estate agent was saying to Simon, without for one moment revealing how very useful it was in a negotiating situation to have a few small bones to chew over. The smaller the bone, the better, of course. In the world of the estate agent, work on a larder window was easily conceded, and the cost of an upgraded kitchen something to be wrested from the owner after a nominal struggle.
    â€˜Who is the owner anyway?’ asked Charlotte casually. ‘He wasn’t around.’
    â€˜A Mr Wetherby,’ replied Kenneth Marsden, adding, ‘He’s naturally still very shocked at losing his wife, you know, and not too keen on going back to the house.’
    â€˜I’m not surprised,’ said Charlotte Cullen. ‘Poor man.’
    Simon gave Marsden a hard look. ‘And I take it that the whole place has been rewired?’
    The estate agent looked pained. ‘I can assure you that the house’s electrical system was the very first thing that was checked after the accident. It was found to be all in good order –’ he gave a slight cough – ‘in spite of everything.’
    â€˜Everything?’ queried Simon.
    â€˜Mrs Wetherby’s electrocution seemed quite inexplicable. Mr Wetherby was at work when it happened and so wasn’t able to help much with the coroner’s enquiries.’
    â€˜Then there shouldn’t be anything for us to worry about, should there?’ said Charlotte in the same decisive tones as she had used to wind up many a meeting at the bank.
    â€˜No,’ said Kenneth Marsden automatically.
    She raised an enquiring eye in her husband’s direction and went through her usual routine. ‘What do you say, Simon? It’s up to you, of course, but I must say I like it…’
    â€˜Me too,’ he said meekly.
    â€˜Right.’ She turned to Kenneth Marsden. ‘You can tell Peter Wetherby that we’ll take it.’
    â€˜I don’t think you’ll regret it,’ said the estate agent heartily, shaking hands as they left. Simon Cullen was inclined to agree with him when, six weeks later, he and Charlotte had duly moved into the Manor at Cullingoak. The larder window had been fixed and the men were due to come that Monday morning to improve the kitchen layout. Simon had no hang-ups about doing the cooking, belonging as he did to the very workman-like ‘if you can read, then you can cook’ school of haute cuisine, but equally he saw no point in ever working under less than optimum conditions. Actually he brought to the task of cooking the same attention and care that had served his previous employers very well until the advent of the world decline in the heavy metals industry.
    â€˜Now, then, Mr Cullen,’ said the foreman, ‘before we get started, can you just check that this plan here is how you want it all doing? Measure twice and cut once, as my old boss used to say.’
    Simon switched the electric kettle on as a gesture of good intent before he joined the man peering over the drawings laid out on the kitchen table. ‘That’s right,’ he said after duly studying the design. He pointed to the larder door and with his hand sketched an imaginary journey round the kitchen in the direction of the stove via the work surfaces and the kitchen sink. ‘Store, wash, prepare, cook, serve … that’s how it should