Free Portent by James Herbert Page A

done. And now, to break a habit of-oh, a day or so-I shall have something strong too. Diane, a more than average-sized gin and tonic, if you please, and why not join us yourself, dear? I'm sure with the lashing you took in that dreadful storm you're ready for a reviver.'
        Diane rose from the arm of the chair. 'Thank God you took control-Poggsy was making an awful hash of things.' She weaved her slim figure through the furniture to the sideboard again. 'How about you, Mack? Want to forgo your home brew for once and try something civilised?'
        Mack shook his head, his attention averted from Rivers for only a moment. The climatologist was puzzled by the man's attention.
        Bibby gently pushed the two children from her. 'You two go off and play now. Put on your galoshes if you go outside-it'll be very wet and muddy out there.'
        It had been a long time since he had heard the word 'galoshes' and somehow the word relaxed Rivers a little. It was hard to imagine anything sinister about anyone who would use such a bygone term. Or maybe the malt Scotch and the pills were mellowing as well as numbing his brain.
        'If you'll give Mack your car keys he'll haul it out of the ditch with a towrope,' she went on. 'As for me, I shall take my g-and-t into the kitchen and prepare lunch. I'd like you to stay for lunch, Mr. Rivers, but the decision is yours.' She rose to take her drink from her daughter-in-law. 'If you believe nothing else, please believe that we are not your enemies.' With that she strode to the door, followed by her small troupe of children and handyman.
        Her last words had startled Rivers. Enemies? Why should they be? Why should they suppose he thought they were? Unease stirred again.
        'Are you sure you won't have that refill?'
        He looked up at Diane, who had brought the Macallan over. There was amusement in her eyes, but it was not mocking. 'Not such a bad idea,' he said, handing her the glass.
        She poured, then left the whisky bottle beside her father-in-law. Poggs took a wheezy breath. 'I suppose there's no gentle way of leading you into this,' he said to Rivers. 'Perhaps that was my mistake in the first place. I really only wanted you to feel comfortable with us, but it seems I've achieved the opposite. If I may, I'd like to take you next door to my study. Perhaps there I can begin to explain why it was so important that we meet.'
        Rivers sipped the Scotch, looking thoughtfully at the other man. Again he tried to remember where he had heard Poggs' name before, but infuriatingly, it wouldn't come to him. 'Okay,' he agreed, rising from the chair. 'Since I've come all this way, and since I'm more than a little intrigued, I'm willing to hear you out.' Poggs rose too, an odd mixture of relief and anxiety on his face. 'Please bring your drink through,' he said, leading the climatologist to the door. 'I've a feeling you might need it.'
        Diane followed them along the hall, and past the stairway; as they stopped outside a closed door and Poggs fumbled in his pockets for a key, she gave Rivers a fleeting smile, perhaps of encouragement.
        'I didn't get a chance to thank you properly,' he said.
        'Like I said at the time, it was fun,' she replied. 'I wouldn't really want to do it again though.'
        Poggs opened the door and went through, but Rivers lingered a moment. 'Are you part of this?' he said to the woman.
        'I'm sorry?'
        'Part of this game Poggs is playing. This petty mystery.'
        Her jawline hardened. 'Oh, it's no game, I can assure you of that. But it is a mystery.' She pushed by him and entered.
        He hesitated before going through himself.
        

5
        
        The room, like the sitting room they had just left, was light and airy, but this one was untidy with books, papers, stacked journals, and files. A long trestle table stood near its centre, barely a square centimetre of its surface