‘How are you feeling?’ I said anxiously. She shrugged off the question, smiling. ‘Absolutely nothing a stiff gin couldn’t cure.’ ‘You and Harry could have been badly hurt. It makes my toes curl just to think about it.’ ‘Well, we weren’t, so let’s not dwell on it. Talking of Harry, where is he?’ ‘Working on his book. I tried to entice him out for a walk, but he insisted on doing his writing. He and that book are joined at the hip. You’d never think we were here for a holiday.’ I paused. ‘So how was the tour of the church?’ ‘Yes, where were you? I made the guide wait but you didn’t show. Marcellus was asking after you,’ she added, a gleam in her eyes. ‘Was he?’ ‘I have to confess, Mags, he does rather give me the creeps.’ ‘And I like him,’ I said defensively. ‘So why does he give you the creeps?’ ‘I don’t know. But that’s why he gives me the creeps. If I knew why he gave me the creeps, he wouldn’t be giving me the creeps, if you see what I mean.’ She ran a hand over her ponytail.
