Only a Game Read Online Free
her side, recording her every action and passing an account back to the man who paid him. It would inhibit her freedom of movement.
The offer had been genuine, but Capstick was glad when she refused. He needed his man beside him as an insurance against any physical threat in the nationâs second city. âEnjoy your day, then.â He kissed her lovingly upon the lips. She responded, then used her paper napkin to remove the lipstick carefully from his mouth before he left her and went out into the world.
She liked being Helen Capstick, she told herself once again. She waved to Jim as he climbed heavily into the big car, then went upstairs and into her dressing-room, deciding unhurriedly on the clothes she would wear for the day.
Twenty minutes later, the big blue Bentley was on the M6 and heading rapidly south. Jim Capstick sat in the back and stared unseeingly at the papers he had taken out of his document case. In the intimacy of their marital exchanges, he had almost told Helen about what he planned for Brunton Rovers Football Club. He was surprised at himself when he realized that. On the whole, it was better that he hadnât, he decided. Yes, definitely better. Women were such natural gossips. It was better not to trust even women like Helen with his thoughts about the future.
DCI âPercyâ Peach enjoyed his day off. He had never been one for the long lie-in, but he breakfasted with unusual leisure, enjoying the ecstatic pleasure of bacon, egg, tomato and that anathema of the healthy eating lobby, a slice of white bread fried in bacon fat. His fiancée had lately introduced him to the Guardian . He passed hastily over the latest gay rights controversy and found the writing on the sports pages pleasantly illuminating.
When he was working in the CID section at Brunton nick, the weather rarely mattered to him. Today, he was pleased to see blue sky and high clouds, for he had arranged a golfing four-ball with friends at the North Lancs Golf Club in the afternoon. It was March now, and the sun was getting higher. He felt a little warmth in it as it shone upon his back in the hour of unaccustomed gardening he undertook to compensate for his breakfast indulgence.
He hadnât played golf for a while, and was a little wild at first. His companions said knowledgeably that his little-used golfing muscles must be stiff and he did not quibble. He was still fairly new to golf, but he had learned early that its practitioners were never short of an excuse for their eccentricities on the course. In the context of amateur golf, Percy Peach was still a young man at thirty-nine; the average age in the club was fifty-seven.
After a distinguished cricketing output as a quick-footed batsman in the Lancashire League, Percy had retired whilst many felt he was still at his peak. He had then taken up the challenge of golf. After three years, his handicap was a pleasing eight, and everyone assured him that there were possibilities of further improvement. He was stocky and compact, and his simple, powerful swing already had a consistency envied by all but the best golfers in the club.
His companion was a good golfer in the inevitable decline which age brings to any sportsman. Harry was in his seventies and had to make up for his disadvantage in length with his excellent short game around the greens. Their two companions had thought the old man the weakest of the four when they gave him to Percy Peach, but the two proved an effective combination, with old Harry coming in on the holes where Percy faltered, securing a score with his excellent chipping and putting.
This still very competitive elderly golfer was delighted when they won the modest stakes on the sixteenth green. He seemed to notice the weather for the first time, calling attention to the glorious sunset over the coast thirty miles to the west of them. As soon as they reached the clubhouse, he arranged a return match for Percyâs next midweek day off,
The offer had been genuine, but Capstick was glad when she refused. He needed his man beside him as an insurance against any physical threat in the nationâs second city. âEnjoy your day, then.â He kissed her lovingly upon the lips. She responded, then used her paper napkin to remove the lipstick carefully from his mouth before he left her and went out into the world.
She liked being Helen Capstick, she told herself once again. She waved to Jim as he climbed heavily into the big car, then went upstairs and into her dressing-room, deciding unhurriedly on the clothes she would wear for the day.
Twenty minutes later, the big blue Bentley was on the M6 and heading rapidly south. Jim Capstick sat in the back and stared unseeingly at the papers he had taken out of his document case. In the intimacy of their marital exchanges, he had almost told Helen about what he planned for Brunton Rovers Football Club. He was surprised at himself when he realized that. On the whole, it was better that he hadnât, he decided. Yes, definitely better. Women were such natural gossips. It was better not to trust even women like Helen with his thoughts about the future.
DCI âPercyâ Peach enjoyed his day off. He had never been one for the long lie-in, but he breakfasted with unusual leisure, enjoying the ecstatic pleasure of bacon, egg, tomato and that anathema of the healthy eating lobby, a slice of white bread fried in bacon fat. His fiancée had lately introduced him to the Guardian . He passed hastily over the latest gay rights controversy and found the writing on the sports pages pleasantly illuminating.
When he was working in the CID section at Brunton nick, the weather rarely mattered to him. Today, he was pleased to see blue sky and high clouds, for he had arranged a golfing four-ball with friends at the North Lancs Golf Club in the afternoon. It was March now, and the sun was getting higher. He felt a little warmth in it as it shone upon his back in the hour of unaccustomed gardening he undertook to compensate for his breakfast indulgence.
He hadnât played golf for a while, and was a little wild at first. His companions said knowledgeably that his little-used golfing muscles must be stiff and he did not quibble. He was still fairly new to golf, but he had learned early that its practitioners were never short of an excuse for their eccentricities on the course. In the context of amateur golf, Percy Peach was still a young man at thirty-nine; the average age in the club was fifty-seven.
After a distinguished cricketing output as a quick-footed batsman in the Lancashire League, Percy had retired whilst many felt he was still at his peak. He had then taken up the challenge of golf. After three years, his handicap was a pleasing eight, and everyone assured him that there were possibilities of further improvement. He was stocky and compact, and his simple, powerful swing already had a consistency envied by all but the best golfers in the club.
His companion was a good golfer in the inevitable decline which age brings to any sportsman. Harry was in his seventies and had to make up for his disadvantage in length with his excellent short game around the greens. Their two companions had thought the old man the weakest of the four when they gave him to Percy Peach, but the two proved an effective combination, with old Harry coming in on the holes where Percy faltered, securing a score with his excellent chipping and putting.
This still very competitive elderly golfer was delighted when they won the modest stakes on the sixteenth green. He seemed to notice the weather for the first time, calling attention to the glorious sunset over the coast thirty miles to the west of them. As soon as they reached the clubhouse, he arranged a return match for Percyâs next midweek day off,
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