Strangeways to Oldham Read Online Free Page B

practically in his dotage when I was a gal. I’ll give my own doctor a ring – sharp young chap, he is – and get you signed on to his books. If there’s anything that can be done, he’ll not only know about it, but put it into practice. We can’t have you trailing round the house like a tortoise, with that thing as your foregoing shell.’
    â€˜If you say so, but I can’t see him coming up with anything new.’
    â€˜Anaesthetics are probably new to that old windbag you’ve been going to. I’ll phone after breakfast and make an appointment for you. In the meantime, we’ve got to get you mobile, and out in the fresh air for some exercise, to strengthen up those old muscles of yours.
    â€˜I know what we’ll do,’ decided his hostess, as they entered the breakfast room and took their places at the table. ‘Did you see my old black trike yesterday?’
    â€˜Of course I did. It went in the trailer with my walking frame, when you collected me from the home,’ replied Hugo, with some dignity. He was neither blind, nor unobservant.
    â€˜Well, that was Mummy’s everyday conveyance. For high days and holidays, she had a red one – not quite so heavy, or difficult to steer, and it’s in the stables. Also, Daddy used to have a bicycle with a little motor-thingy. If I can get Beauchamp to transfer the motor-thingy from the bicycle to Mummy’s red trike – he’ll work something out to take into account the extra wheel – we can go out for picnics, even if we never get out of the grounds.’
    â€˜That sounds jolly pleasant, Manda,’ he replied, his good humour restored, at the thought of outings and outside – two things he’d been severely deprived of, of late.
    Beauchamp laid out a dish of fried kippers on the table, and as Hugo was starting to enquire about what they would do with regard to their suspicions of murder, Lady Amanda upbraided him with, ‘You know one never discusses business at table, Hugo. We’ll talk about it after we’ve eaten. While we’re at breakfast, tell me about your extraordinarily long surname, and how it grew that big. I never have known the full story.’
    â€˜Oh, that’s an easy one,’ he began, interspersing the tale with breaks, while he forked mouthfuls of kipper from his plate, and chewed them appreciatively. ‘Two strong women were all it took. Grandpa Cholmondley married a Miss Crichton and, anxious that her name should not be discarded so lightly, she insisted on adding it to his, making it double-barrelled.
    â€˜My father, in his choice of bride, married an equally strong woman, but with the unfortunate surname of Crump. Well, she prevailed, probably egged on by, and in the same fashion as, her mother-in-law, and the name became triple-barrelled, as you now know it.’
    â€˜But you never married, Hugo?’
    â€˜Didn’t dare to, in case I chose a similarly strong-minded bride. Might have ended up with a moniker so long, I’d never be able to fill in a form for the rest of my life. It’s bad enough as it is, without making it even longer. Pen keeps running out of ink, don’t yer know.’
    â€˜Don’t be flippant, Chummy. Is that the real reason you never married?’
    â€˜Of course it’s not. Just never met the right gal, I suppose.’
    â€˜Never mind. We can keep each other company now, can’t we?’
    â€˜I was going to ask you about that,’ Hugo replied. ‘Didn’t know if it was quite decent, the two of us living under the same roof, and all that. It’s all been a bit sudden. I’ll understand completely, if you think you acted rather rashly, yesterday.’
    â€˜Don’t be absurd!’ she spluttered, her mouth full of tea. ‘I’m glad of the company, to be quite honest, and we have known each other for a very long