Unfaithfully Yours Read Online Free Page A

contradict the next thing that was said to him. He is, I suppose, Mrs Price, a handsome man. His jaw is too large but built on very secure lines. His nose – as I think I said – is a possibly over-ambitious structure but those pale blue eyes have a kind of life that is clearly hard to resist.
    Janet, the grey woman, became suddenly faintly girlish. Whatever she might say about him behind his back, she looked glad to have him in the room. And my pink friend was trembling like a blancmange that has been set down too violently upon a table.
    ‘“Soft you now!”’ he said, holding out his right hand in what looked a little like a Hitler salute. ‘“The fair Ophelia!”’
    I began to suspect he was already ‘in character’ since – as the grey woman had suggested earlier – there was definitely a Germanic edge to his accent. Perhaps there is a ‘Nazi theme’ to the production. The effect on the pink woman was striking. She went towards him and, taking his hand, led him towards the centre of the room. I could not quite hear everything she said but I caught the words ‘“How does your honour for this many a day?”’ To which he replied, ‘Fucking brilliant, darling!’
    It was not, however, what they said, but what they didn’t say. Suddenly that shabby church hall was reeking of sex. I had the impression that, at any moment, Mr Price was going to throw her on to the floor, pull down her pink trousers and have her right there in front of the core members of the Putney Thespians.
    I am writing this in my living room, Mrs Price, and the man next door seems to be trying to run over his dog with his lawnmower. I will try to give you a more detailed report tomorrow. Suffice it to say that, from what I have seen of these two over a period of only two days, I am convinced that something is ‘in the wind’ between them. I will need further proof, quite obviously, and this will involve detailed surveillance of ‘Mary Dimmock’, which may involve extra expense. Do, please, let me know your thoughts. If you could bear to telephone or email me that would certainly speed things up!
    Yours truly,
    Roland O. Gibbons

     
    From:
    Elizabeth Price
    PO Box 132
    Putney
    14 July
    To:
    Roland O. Gibbons
    Gibbons Detective Agency
    Dear Mr Gibbons,
    Just received your letter. No, I will not phone or email you. This woman Dimmock was known to me although I have – thank Christ – managed to avoid her for the last fifteen years. There was a nasty moment in 2003 when I sighted her while crossing Hotham Road and had to duck down behind a parked car until I was sure she had passed. Keep your distance and on no account let either her or my husband suspect that you are what you are.
    I want to know everything that happens between them. If you have to use a telephoto lens – use it. Tape record whatever seems necessary. You have my permission to hide under whatever bed they may be using to do what they do – if you think that is advisable.
    Yours,
    Elizabeth Price
    PS When the time comes I will act appropriately. I am relying on you to keep our correspondence completely secret. In fact, I would recommend you to burn all my letters as soon as you receive this. I have to go away for a few weeks. I am enclosing £850 in cash. Do not stint in your endeavours while I am away.

Chapter Two
Mr Price writes a letter of condolence. Mike Larner tries to avoid him
    From the desk of
    Gerald Price QC
    112 Heathland Avenue
    Putney, SW15 3LE
    20 July
    To:
    Michael Larner
    24 Lawson Crescent
    Putney
    Dear Mike,
    I felt I had to write to say how sorry I was about Pamela. I know it happened a long time ago. I think I only heard she had passed away a few years after she actually got the ultimate P45; and I always felt bad I didn’t write to you with a bit of the old ‘she was an unrecognized genius’ sort of thing. We had all lost touch, had we not? It’s taken me yonks to get your address.
    I was reminded of her because I ran into old Norman Staines