"Quintin, Jardine - Gallery Whispers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Quintin Jardine)

'I'll get the coffee,' he said, rising from his carver chair. 'You want
milk in yours, or just black?'
'Have we any of that Bailey's left?' she asked him. 'If so, I'll take
some of that in it.' He nodded.
Olive, in her turn, watched her husband as he left the room. Neil
wasn't exactly fat, but over the thirteen years of their marriage, he had
gained over two stone. Sure, he had a massive frame to carry it, but
still, every time she thought of Chic, his father, and remembered the
sudden awfulness of his death at the party for Spencer's christening,
she felt a pang of fear for him. Chic had been fifty-four, a big, bulky
man like his son. And he was only two years short of forty.
Without warning she felt another type of pang as the cough reflex
kicked in.
Neil, in the kitchen, heard the paroxysm, then the quick puff of the
inhaler as the fit settled down. This wasn't right; it wasn't bloody
right. Anybody who knew them well would have realised that, simply
by the fact that he was there making the coffee. Everyone in their
circle knew that Olive couldn't stand his bloody coffee. Christ, she'd
told them often enough. He either used too much or not enough, or
ruined it by putting in too much milk, or made it straight from a
boiling kettle and damn near scalded her. Now here she was letting
him make the Kenco without a murmur. Indeed it was not bloody
right.
'D'you not think you should go back to the doctor?' he asked, as he
set a mug, its contents heavily laced with the last of the Irish cream
liqueur, on the coaster which lay before her on the table.
She shot him the stare; the full, high-intensity spine-chiller that he
knew so well, the laser look she could snap on in an instant. 'Olive's
Silencer', her colleagues called it in the staff-room, in their awe at her
ability to bring order to the rowdiest class without ever raising her
voice.
'No I do not,' she retorted. 'I have asthma. The doctor's told me
that, and she's given me my inhaler. She warned me that the cough
would come and go.'
'It's the "go" part that I'm concerned about, love. Surely she could
give you something that would settle it a bit quicker.'
'I'll be all right,' she snapped. 'Now pack it in. Change the subject.
What sort of a day did you have? What's the news on the Chief?'
Neil backed off, for that moment at least. 'He's coming on,' he
said. 'The boss says that he has another appointment with the heart
specialist in Spain next Tuesday. If that goes okay they'll let him come
home, provided that they take at least three days for the journey and
that Lady Proud does most of the driving.'
'When will he be back at work?'
'There's no news on that yet. I understand from the boss that one of
the force examiners will have to pass him fit before he can come
back. The moment can't come soon enough for Big Bob, I can tell
you. He hates every day he spends in that office.'
Olive smiled. 'I'm sure he's just saying that, in case anyone thinks
he's trying to undermine the Chief. He's probably loving it, really.'