夜雨聆风Looking back on it, that is really the onlyexplanation I can find.
I was due for my monthly visit to Marcus Kent… I went up by train. Tomy intense surprise Joanna elected to stay behind. As a rule she was eagerto come and we usually stayed up for a couple of days.
This time, however, I proposed to return the same day by the eveningtrain, but even so I was astonished at Joanna. She merely said enigmatic-ally that she’d got plenty to do, and why spend hours in a nasty stuffytrain when it was a lovely day in the country?
That, of course, was undeniable, but sounded very unlike Joanna.
She said she didn’t want the car, so I was to drive it to the station andleave it parked there against my return.
The station of Lymstock is situated, for some obscure reason known torailway companies only, quite half a mile from Lymstock itself. Halfwayalong the road I overtook Megan shuffling along in an aimless manner. Ipulled up.
“Hallo, what are you doing?”
“Just out for a walk.”
“But not what is called a good brisk walk, I gather. You were crawlingalong like a dispirited crab.”
“Well, I wasn’t going anywhere particular.”
“Then you’d better come and see me off at the station.” I opened thedoor of the car and Megan jumped in.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“London. To see my doctor.”
“Your back’s not worse, is it?”
“No, it’s practically all right again. I’m expecting him to be very pleasedabout it.”
Megan nodded.
We drew up at the station. I parked the car and went in and bought myticket at the booking office. There were very few people on the platformand nobody I knew.
“You wouldn’t like to lend me a penny, would you?” said Megan. “ThenI’d get a bit of chocolate out of the slot machine.”
