Mr. Chartwell Read Online Free PDF Page B

one side of the house, it was ripe with tomato plants and courgettes, leaves crowding the glass.
    “Nice tomatoes,” said Mr. Chartwell.
    “Thanks, I grew them myself,” Esther said, as though it would surprise anyone.
    “What are you going to do with them?” Mr. Chartwell asked.
    “I don’t know, eat them I suppose,” Esther said.
    “Right,” said Mr. Chartwell, as if this was big news. “I’ve got a great chutney recipe. Perhaps you’d like it?”
    Esther didn’t like it. She didn’t want any recipe recommended by a dog. Terrified of causing offence, she smiled weakly. “Thank you. That would be good.”
    “I’ve got a fantastic jam recipe, too,” said Mr. Chartwell, spotting some strawberry plants and smirking at the joke he was about to make. “In fact my jam is the last word in fine preserves. I should give you a jar so you can
spread
the word.…” Turned away from her his shoulders shook.
    Then he came towards the bench.
    Esther stiffened. He was going to sit next to her? The ideawas horrifying. She bit into her inner cheek, hurting it, and wanted to leap away. She fumbled through a list of excuses, all unusable, and shocked herself by being on the verge of tears.
    She needn’t have worried. Mr. Chartwell put his glass of wine down and dropped onto all fours. In front of the bench a long bald patch was worn through the grass, the soil beneath dried into sand. He made a few turns on this spot, clawing the area, and capsized onto his side, legs stretched out. The grassless trench was perfectly sized.
    “Ah, relaxing here on the lawn,” he said with great satisfaction, wagging his tail. It made the sound of a hockey stick thumping the ground. He picked up his wineglass. The fingerless paw had no difficulty gripping the stem, but his coffin mouth and immobile lips made drinking from it awkward. The wine wanted to pour across the sides of his face in streams. After each sip he fought the wine, working his jaws, which produced an indecent smacking sound. Droplets sprayed into the air, some landing on Esther’s feet.
    They listened to the squabbling of birds.
    “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about this morning?” asked Mr. Chartwell.
    Esther said, “I’ve thought about it a lot, actually.”
    “Have you made your mind up?”
    Esther took a slow, hesitant sip of wine. “I haven’t, no.”
    “I see,” said Mr. Chartwell, in a way which implied that this was a powerfully boring answer. “Because I do really need to confirm where I’ll be staying as quickly as possible.”
    “Have you looked anywhere else? At any other houses?” Esther asked.
    “A few places, none as convenient as this one.”
    Mr. Chartwell rolled a paw as he explained. “The locationhere is hard to beat in terms of convenience for work. Door to door, I’m looking at a fifty-minute journey.” He laid his head on the ground, half his face hidden. The one visible eye swivelled to look at Esther.
    She made a thoughtful hum. “And you say it will only be for a few days? After that you’re leaving?”
    “Probably.” Mr. Chartwell yawned, a high-pitched animal noise leaving his throat.
    “Right,” said Esther. A fish caught a beetle with a splash.
    She tried to draw more from Mr. Chartwell. “So how many days, do you think?”
    “Don’t know,” Mr. Chartwell said.
    “And this is for your work?”
    “Yup,” he said.
    “And you’ll pay me one thousand pounds?”
    “Yup.”
    “Regardless of the time you stay, you’ll pay me one thousand pounds?”
    “Correct.”
    “That certainly is a lot of money.…”
    “Certainly is.” He gave something on the grass an investigatory lick.
    Esther said as an invitation, “Your job must pay you an awful lot.…”
    Mr. Chartwell was still busy licking.
    Esther waited for him to finish. When he didn’t she felt a rising fury at his evasiveness. He was doing it on purpose, refusing to answer her! Well, try and evade this! She leaned forward on her