Free Maxwell’s House by M. J. Trow Page A

it’s late.’
    She fiddled with the chain. ‘No, no,’ she flustered, closing the top of her housecoat, ‘not at all. It’s just that … Have you ever been here before?’
    ‘Er … once, I think,’ he told her, edging past into the hall. ‘It was old Whatsisface’s retirement. I’d had a few and Bill brought me here to dry out. Remember?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ she laughed. ‘Can I get you a drink now?’
    ‘You can get me a cocoa,’ he smiled. Then he saw the dog waddling lamely over to him. ‘Hello, Dick.’
    ‘Dirk,’ she corrected him.
    ‘Dirk.’ He took the outstretched paw. ‘Yes, of course. Charmed. How old is he now?’
    ‘Nearly eighteen.’ She padded into the kitchen. ‘That’s over a hundred and twenty in human terms.’
    ‘Ah,’ Maxwell mused, ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to shake anybody’s hand when I’m over a hundred and twenty.’
    ‘What’s the matter, Max?’ She had her back to him, filling the kettle.
    ‘Jenny Hyde,’ he said.
    ‘Yes.’ She reached into the fridge for the milk. ‘I thought it would be.’
    ‘Did you?’ He perched himself on one of her high stools at the breakfast bar. Beyond his reflection in the window he saw the lights twinkle on the sea and he knew the wind sighed in the dunes.
    ‘You didn’t mention her in assembly this morning.’
    ‘It didn’t seem the moment,’ he said.
    ‘Bit corny of Diamond, wasn’t it?’ she asked him. ‘That ghastly one minute’s silence. Anybody’d think he was a real Headmaster. Did you know he was going to do that?’
    ‘If it’s anything to do with the sixth form,’ Maxwell told her, ‘you can bet I’m the last to know.’
    ‘Sugar?’
    ‘Two, please,’ he said.
    ‘I thought you were dieting?’
    ‘I am,’ he told her. ‘Two sugars is the diet.’
    She laughed and shook her head. ‘I went to the funeral, you know.’
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Thanks for doing that.’
    She looked at him. I don’t need thanks, Max,’ she said. ‘I liked Jenny. Everybody did.’
    ‘Somebody didn’t,’ Maxwell reminded her.
    Her face was suddenly older, sadder. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘Somebody didn’t.’
    ‘Who was there?’ he asked her. ‘At the funeral, I mean.’
    ‘Oh, her family. Mum, dad. Others I didn’t know. There were quite a few of the sixth form. Tim, of course. Tim Grey. They were going together, weren’t they?’
    Maxwell shrugged. ‘What am I?’ he asked. ‘The Leighford High Lonely Hearts Club? I can’t keep tabs on all these pubescent gropings.’
    ‘Well, he was there, anyway.’
    ‘I heard something today. Oh, thanks.’ He took the proffered cup.
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘I heard Jenny ran away from home. Is that right?’
    She looked warily at him. ‘Who told you?’ she asked.
    ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Did she?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You didn’t tell me.’
    ‘I was told not to.’
    ‘Oh?’ His eyebrows and hackles rose simultaneously.
    ‘By whom?’
    ‘Mrs Hyde.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘I’m not sure you do. I’ve told the police already.’
    ‘You have?’
    ‘Max, you weren’t here,’ she explained.
    ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to feel like Ray Milland in
The Lost Weekend
, as though a whole chunk of my life is missing.’
    ‘A whole chunk of Jenny’s is,’ she said, solemnly.
    ‘I want to know,’ he told her.
    ‘I told Inspector Hall I wouldn’t talk to anyone else,’ she said.
    ‘Janet,’ he held her shoulder, ‘I liked Jenny, too,’ he said.
    And she looked at him.
    And she told him.

5
    There was no doubt about it, Janet Foster made a mean cup of cocoa. Maxwell blew the froth from the top until he realized that Janet was looking at him. Some days, when he felt at his most self-reflective, he began to make mental lists of the odd habits that bachelorhood had imposed upon him. Blowing on his cocoa was only the tip of the iceberg. He smiled at Janet, knowing he was sparing her from his bathtime rendering of the Everley Brothers’ Greatest