Swimming Pool Sunday Read Online Free PDF Page A

boots.
    Hugh and Ursula were having a cup of coffee in the conservatory when Meredith poked her head through the window.
    ‘Lots of people are here already,’ she said, gesturing behind her.
    ‘So we can see,’ said Hugh. ‘Jolly good. We’ll come out in a minute and help.’
    ‘What I came for’, said Meredith, ‘was that list of people who have paid already.’ She looked at Ursula. ‘You know the one? You had it yesterday.’
    ‘Ah yes,’ said Ursula vaguely, ‘the list.’ She patted hersilvery blond hair, arranged becomingly in a French pleat, and took a sip of coffee.
    ‘Do you know where the list is?’ asked Meredith. ‘Did you find it last night?’
    ‘Not last night, no,’ said Ursula, frowning slightly. ‘Wasn’t it on the dresser?’ She looked at Meredith with large blue eyes, bright in the greenish gloom of the conservatory.
    ‘No, Ursula,’ said Meredith patiently. ‘Don’t you remember? We were talking about it last night. I couldn’t find it, and you said you’d taken it off the dresser to add a couple of names, and you said you’d look for it.’
    ‘Ah yes,’ said Ursula, ‘now I remember.’
    ‘Did you look for it?’ prompted Meredith.
    ‘I may have had a little search,’ said Ursula unconvincingly. Meredith exchanged glances with Hugh. This was the sort of behaviour that used to drive Simon mad with his mother, she thought. And before she could stop it, a familiar series of pictures flashed briefly through her mind: Simon, the wedding, Simon in hospital, the funeral. She felt a short pang of pain, but in a moment her mind was clear again; the memories packaged neatly away. All that was left behind was a strong feeling of fondness for Ursula.
    ‘But you didn’t find it,’ she suggested.
    ‘I don’t think I did,’ said Ursula eventually. ‘But I’ll go and have a look for it now, shall I?’ She screwed up her face in thought. ‘You know, dear, I’m sure it’s on the dresser.’
    ‘It’s not on the dresser, Ursula,’ said Meredith, grinning at her. ‘That’s the whole point. I already looked there.’
    ‘Well, dear, you never know; you might have missed it,’ said Ursula in gently obstinate tones. She put down her coffee cup on a bamboo table, and stood up. A white and green print crêpe de Chine dress rustled prettily insoft folds around her. ‘I’ll go and look for it straight away,’ she announced.
    ‘OK then,’ said Meredith, ‘and maybe, Hugh, you could have a look too? Somewhere other than the dresser?’ Hugh winked at her.
    ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.
    By the time Louise and Amelia arrived at Devenish House, Hugh had found the list lurking behind an ormolu clock on the dining-room mantelpiece. Meredith had gone to change into her swimming things, and Ursula was presiding over the entrance table, together with Frances Mold.
    Frances’s husband, the Revd Alan Mold, was, that morning, taking family service in the neighbouring village of Tranton. He was in charge of both parishes – Melbrook and Tranton – and alternated between them every Sunday. This arrangement had been in existence for nearly ten years, and at first the general idea had been that the congregation from Melbrook would follow him to Tranton every other Sunday, and the congregation from Tranton would reciprocate. In practice, however, the arrangement was cheerfully regarded as a good excuse to attend church only once a fortnight.
    The only person who regularly accompanied Alan to Tranton was Frances herself. However, this morning, even she had forgone the family service in favour of a quick eight o’clock communion, in order to be free to help the Delaneys. Now she sat, chatting cheerfully to Ursula at the entrance table, looking about her with a pleasant anticipation.
    Although labelled ‘The Entrance Table’, there was, in fact, no obvious place of entrance to the swimming-pool of Devenish House. From the conservatory and French windows of the house, the garden