Page 42 of Lost in a Good Book (Thursday Next 2)

'Cheese or ham?' he said at last.

'Both – but go easy on the cheese; this is a very limited supply.'

'Where did you find it?' asked Landen, looking at the anonymously wrapped block suspiciously.

'From Joe Martlet at the Cheese Squad. They intercept about twelve tons a week coming over the Welsh border. It seems a shame to burn it so everyone at SpecOps gets a pound or two. You know what they say: "Cops have the best cheese".'

'Goodbye, Thursday,' muttered Landen, looking at the ham.

'Are you going somewhere?' I replied, unsure of what he meant.

'Me? No. Why?'

'You just said "goodbye".'

He laughed. 'No. I was commenting on the ham. It's a good buy.'

'Oh.'

He cut me a slice and put it with the cheese in a sandwich, then made one for himself. In the distance a mammoth trumpeted as it made heavy weather of the escarpment, and I took a bite.

'It's farewell and so long, Thursday.'

'Are you doing this on purpose?'

'Doing what? Isn't that Major Tony Fairwelle and your old school chum Sue Long over there?'

I turned to where Landen was pointing. It was Tony and Sue, and they waved cheerily before walking across to say hello.

'Goodness!' said Tony when they had seated themselves 'Looks like the regimental get-together is early this year! Remember Sarah Nara, who lost an ear at Bilohirsk? I just met her in the carpark; quite a coincidence.'

As he said the word my heart missed a beat. I rummaged in my pocket for the entroposcope Mycroft had given me.

'What's the matter, Thurs?' asked Landen. 'You're looking kind of … odd.'

'I'm checking for coincidences,' I muttered, shaking the jam jar of mixed lentils and rice. 'It's not as stupid as it sounds.'

The two pulses had gathered in a sort of swirly pattern. Entropy was decreasing by the second.

'We're out of here,' I said to Landen, who looked at me quizzically. 'Let's go. Leave the things.'

'What's the problem, Thurs?'

'I've just spotted my old croquet captain, Alf Widdershaine. This is Sue Long and Tony Fairwelle; they just saw Sarah Nara — see a pattern emerging?'

'Thursday!' Landen sighed. 'Aren't you being a little—'

'Want me to prove it? Excuse me!' I said, shouting to a passer-by. 'What's your name?'

'Bonnie,' she said, 'Bonnie Voige. Why?'

'See?'

'Voige is not a rare name, Thurs. There are probably hundreds of them up here.'

'All right, smarty-pants, you try.'

'I will,' replied Landen indignantly, heaving himself to his feet. 'Excuse me!'

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