He also woke early, round seven o’clock, so he dressed quickly and left his digs before he could be subjected to more of Mimi’s gloomy omniscience and another of her cremated breakfasts. He had woken up with a good intention and he wanted to realize it before it too got laid on the hardcore to hell. He rang from a phone-box on the way to the station before eight. He knew she didn’t get into the yellow Renault and drive to school till a quarter past. Her voice, as she gave the number, sounded achingly familiar. ‘Frances it’s me.’ ‘Charles. Thank God you rang. I was beginning to worry that something had happened to you.’ ‘Nothing more unusual than a job.’ ‘Good. Where are you?’ ‘Rugland Spa.’ ‘My God. Knee-deep in retired Colonels and blue-rinsed widows.’ ‘You have it in one.’ ‘So no doubt the show you’re doing for them is horribly genteel.’ ‘No. By no means. I am participating in a thriller so bad I won’t even mention its name, but I am also rehearsing for a play you may have heard of, called Shove It.’ ‘Ah.’ ‘Know it?’ ‘By reputation.
What do You think about Murder In The Title (2012)?
