The Torso in the Town

Thirty-Five

Lunch with James Lister had gone on rather longer than Carole would have wished. Towards the end, his arch flirtatiousness had given way to maudlin self-pity. Though Carole recognized this was an entirely understandable emotion from anyone married to Fiona Lister, she found it hard to be sympathetic. And she wanted to move on, find Jude and discuss her findings.

But James Lister’s long-winded leave-taking of Jean-Pierre, followed by his reluctant farewell to her – including an unnecessarily slobbery kiss on the stairwell of the restaurant – meant that Carole didn’t arrive back at the Renault till after four.

There was no sign of Jude. Frustrating; Carole might only just have missed her. Never mind, an hour more of the Art Crawl wouldn’t come amiss.

Carole didn’t see much she liked, very little that she’d give house-room to. She contemplated having another look at Debbie Carlton’s work. She’d really liked those watercolours, and had almost completed the mental processes involved in reaching a decision to buy one. But perhaps going that afternoon would be too precipitate. The Art Crawl had another whole week to run, after all, Carole reassured herself with some relief.

When she got back to the Renault just before five, there was still no Jude. Carole waited, then walked up to the small green outside the entrance to the Castle ruins, thinking her friend might be sitting there. But no sign.

She let a full half-hour elapse before giving up and driving back to Fethering. Couldn’t hang about any longer. Gulliver would want feeding and walking, apart from anything else.

As she drove down towards the coast, Carole wondered whether she should invest in a mobile phone. Jude had one, and for moments such as this they must be very useful. It’d be very easy to sort out misunderstood arrangements or to explain delays if one had instant telephonic contact.

She was a little surprised at herself, contemplating two luxury purchases so close together. A watercolour by Debbie Carlton and a mobile phone. That wasn’t appropriate for the Carole Seddon Carole Seddon knew and tried to love. Still, no need to rush into either extravagance, she told herself. Think about whether she really did need them.

When she had got back to High Tor and garaged the Renault, she fully expected to find a message on the answering machine to explain Jude’s absence. But there wasn’t one. She went next door to Woodside Cottage, thinking for some reason her neighbour might have got a cab back early from Fedborough.

There was nobody in.