that to Ian.
He relaxed somewhat.
‘So, can I stay here?’ I asked, placing my bag, and the tube, on the floor.
‘What? Sleep here?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘But I’ve only got the one bed.’ From his tone I gathered that he had no desire to share.
‘That’s OK,’ I said. ‘I only want the floor.’
‘You can have the sofa.’
‘Even better,’ I said ‘Now, how about that food? I’m starving.’
He served it out onto two fairly clean plates on his tiny kitchen table and I tucked into mine with gusto. I suspect a doctor would have told me that a bellyful of Chinese was not really the best medicine for a starved stomach, but I didn’t care. It tasted pretty good to me.
Finally, I sat back and pushed the plate away with a sigh. I was full.
‘Blimey,’ said Ian, who had only just started his sweet-and-sour pork. ‘Anyone would think you hadn’t eaten for a week.’
‘What day is it?’ I asked.
He looked at me strangely. ‘Wednesday.’
Had it really only been on Monday that I’d gone to Oxford for the inquest? Just two and a half days ago? It seemed like longer. In fact, it felt like half a lifetime.
Did I want to tell Ian why I was so hungry? Did he need to know why I hadn’t eaten since Monday morning? Perhaps not. It would take too much explaining, and he might not be very happy that I hadn’t called the cops.
‘Not too many restaurants about when you’re living rough,’ I said.
‘Living rough?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I’ve been up on the Downs for a couple of nights in a shelter I made.’
‘But it’s so cold, and it’s done nothing but rain all week.’
‘Yeah, and don’t I know it. I couldn’t light my fire,’ I said. ‘But it’s all good training. Nothing like a bit of discomfort to harden you up.’
‘You army blokes are barmy,’ Ian said. ‘You wouldn’t catch me outside all night in this weather.’ He poured more bright pink sweet-and-sour sauce over his dinner.
So much for not telling him outright lies; I’d hardly uttered a word that was true.
‘So tell me,’ he said. ‘What was it about the running of the horses that you argued with your mother about?’
‘Oh, nothing, really,’ I said, back-pedalling madly. ‘And I am sure she wouldn’t want me talking to you about it.’
‘You might be right there,’ he said, smiling. ‘But tell me anyway.’
‘I told you, it was nothing,’ I said. ‘I just told her that, in my opinion, and based on his last run at Cheltenham, Pharmacist wasn’t ready for the Gold Cup.’
‘And what did she say?’ Ian asked, pointing his fork at me.
‘She told me to stick my opinion up my you-know-where.’
He laughed. ‘For once, I agree with her.’
‘You do?’ I said, sounding surprised. ‘When I was here, you know, when we watched the race on the television, you said that he couldn’t now run at the Festival.’
‘Well,’ he said defensively, ‘I may have done at the time, in the heat of the moment like, but I didn’t really mean it. One bad performance doesn’t make him a bad horse, now, does it?’
‘But I only said it to my mother because I thought that’s what you thought.’
‘You should have bloody asked me, then.’ He speared a pork ball on his fork and popped it into his mouth.
‘Looks like I’ll have to beg forgiveness and ask to be allowed home.’
‘Did she throw you out just for saying that?’ He spoke with his mouth full, giving me a fine view of his sweet-and-sour pork-ball rotating like the contents of a cement mixer.
‘Well, there were a few other things too,’ I said. ‘You know, personal family things.’
He nodded knowingly. ‘In a good row, one thing just leads to another and then another, don’t it.’ He sounded experienced in the matter, and I wondered whether there had once been a Mrs Norland.
‘You are so right.’
‘So, do you still want to stay here?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘I’m not going home to my mother with my tail between my legs, I can tell you. I’d never hear the end of it.’
He laughed again and took another mouthful of his pork. ‘Fine by me, but I warn you, I get up early.’
‘I want to be gone before first light.’
‘The sun comes up at seven these days,’ he said. ‘It’s light for a good half an hour or so before then.’
‘Then I’ll be well gone by six,’ I said.
‘To avoid your mother?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘But you can ask her where she thinks I am. I’d