Honeybath's Haven Read Online Free PDF

the whole affair (and hurt in his mind as well), at once greeted her with firm cordiality.
    â€˜My dear Mrs Plover,’ he said, ‘this is very strange. I had no idea of it. I’ve been a little out of touch with the Lightfoots of late. Where have they moved to?’
    â€˜I don’t know as to ’ er ’. Mrs Plover spoke darkly. ‘But Mr Ell, ’e gone orf to Italy.’
    â€˜Dear me! Well, it’s a nice time of year for it.’ Honeybath felt that a certain cover-up of his dismay was prudent.
    â€˜I never did ’old with Italians, Mr Haich. There was one next door to us when I was a kid. A mangy little monkey ’e went in for, wot sat on his ’urdy-gurdy. A narsty flea-bag, it was.’ Mrs Plover’s speech might have been described as vigorously demotic.
    â€˜Ah, yes – I remember that sort of thing. The monkey would be taught to hold a cap and collect pennies. But there have been some quite notable Italians in times past, Mrs Plover. Masaccio and Michelangelo, for example. And Piero della Francesca.’ This pointless informativeness showed that Honeybath was in great confusion. ‘Has Mr Lightfoot left a forwarding address?’
    â€˜Ten quid down to clear up the mess, and never a bloody ’int of his whereabouts.’ Mrs Plover produced a soiled apron from a string bag. ‘Not that Mr Ell mayn’t be keeping on the studio, it seems. A dirty mucky place that I’m glad I never put ’and to. But a separate dwelling in the eye of the law.’
    â€˜No doubt. Well, I mustn’t detain you from your work, Mrs Plover.’ Honeybath’s only thought at the moment was to get away from the distressing chaos around him, and think things out. ‘But if you should hear from Mrs Lightfoot meanwhile…’
    â€˜I won’t hear nuffink from ’ er ’. Mrs Plover was emphatic. ‘But one thing I do know – and not to ’er credit. I was unsurprised. She said it would remind ’er of the charms of Mr Ell’s conwersation.’
    â€˜Whatever was that, Mrs Plover?’
    â€˜What she gone and bought, of course. A bloody great parrot.’
    Honeybath turned away and prepared to leave the flat. He disapproved of Melissa’s parrot, Melissa’s joke about it, and Mrs Plover’s language. Halfway to the door he discovered that he was still carrying a large bunch of red and white carnations dolled up with fluffy fern and swathed in tissue paper and silver foil. He could hardly drop this ridiculous burden on the floor, and to hand it to one of the burly men might be an action carrying the most sinister implications. So he came back and handed it to Mrs Plover instead.
    â€˜I wonder if you would care to have these?’ he asked. ‘I should like you to have them. It’s possible we mayn’t meet again.’
    â€˜I’ll be ’appy, Mr Haich,’ Mrs Plover said. And she looked, oddly enough, quite as gratified as surprised.
    On this note of amenity Honeybath got out of the flat – which it appeared likely that he was saying goodbye to too. On the landing he paused, conscious of a sudden strong curiosity about the state of the big studio on the top floor. It was, of course, very familiar to him, and now there came into his mind one immediately relevant fact. As a precaution against inconvenience arising from his own absent-mindedness, Edwin never brought away the key when he locked the place up behind him. He simply shoved it under the terminal few inches of the stair-carpet. So far as Honeybath knew, there had never been any ill-consequence of this guileless notion of security (of which the authentic Flannel Foot would certainly have thought poorly). But it did make it quite probable that Honeybath could pay a quiet visit to the studio before leaving the building. As he saw it, there would be nothing improper in this. He and Edwin had been on terms that amply licensed anything