The Fox in the Forest Read Online Free PDF Page B

of a fund-raising group.” He looked round hopefully at the Davidsons and Mrs Graham, the widow who had been listening to the Colonel when he arrived.
    “I don’t see why not,” said the Colonel comfortably. “Which church fabric is in need of repair now?” He waved aside the offer of more tea from his wife.
    “I wasn’t thinking of our buildings. Sooner or later we’re going to have to abandon one of them — probably St Thomas’s at Ashbridge — but we can debate that in a larger assembly in due course. It’s the famine in Ethiopia that should perhaps be our immediate concern.”
    Davidson frowned. “None of us likes looking at pictures of starving children, I agree. But Ethiopia seems in danger of becoming a perennial problem. Are we sure that all this aid gets through to where it’s needed? Some of these African governments simply can’t be t-trusted.”
    “I think organizations like Oxfam and Christian Aid know the score on that,” said Peter firmly. “They’ve a lot of experience of ensuring that money and food get through to where they can do most good. It’s just the scale of the problem that threatens to overwhelm them. It needs vast sums to make much impact; I’m glad to see the Princess Royal is throwing her weight behind the Appeal.” He aimed this last shaft at Mrs Graham, a determined royalist, though he took care not to look at her. He was delighted to see her responding out of the corner of his eye.
    Rachel Davidson said, “The young people would be interested. If someone could organize a disco in the village hill, I’d provide them with refreshments.” She took up her silver cake-server and slid two more pieces of scone deftly on to Peter’s plate.
    Her husband had enough sense to realize when he was out-numbered. He prided himself on his capacity for swift decisions, not recognizing that it could sometimes be a weakness as well as a strength. “Well, if you’re all happy to give the project your energies, we might as well get on with it,” he said, cheerfully enough.
    Cut your losses early and people don’t even realize you’ve been defeated. It was the most valuable lesson he had picked up from the course on managerial skills the Army had offered him to prepare him for civilian life at forty-five. He used the tactic often on the Rural District Council; not that as Chairman he had to concede defeat very often there.
    Peter was relieved to find his objective so easily achieved: he had expected quite a struggle to carry the day. It was agreed that he should mention the crisis and the fund which was to be their local response at his sermons at Midnight Mass and on Christmas morning. The two women came up with ideas of their own, and the Colonel promised to pass the hat round at the conclusion of the Boxing Day hunt. Peter watched the logs burning cheerfully in the wide inglenook fireplace, sipped his second cup of tea, felt pleasantly drowsy and supported.
    He had not realized quite how drained he was until Mrs Graham said to him conventionally, “And how is Mrs Barton? Looking forward to Christmas?”
    “Er, yes, I think so. I’ve been too busy to see much of her these last few days.” He managed a weak laugh. He could not tell them that she had not come home last night and he did not even know where she was. “Well, I must be going. I want to get over to Ashbridge to set up a similar collection for Ethiopia.”
    “But you didn’t bring your car,” said Rachel Davidson.
    So he had been observed as he thought as he walked up the drive. “No. Clare’s out in it, actually. But I’ll walk over to Ashbridge: it won’t take me very long.” He moved towards the door.
    Davidson sprang up. “You’ll do no such thing, Vicar. Arthur will run you over there in my car.” Ignoring Peter’s protests, he seized the internal phone and explained what was required to his chauffeur-handyman, who lived in the flat over what had originally been the stables. “He’ll have you over