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'Well done!' I said. 'Just two more.'
Brimming with confidence, she negotiated the two remaining steps with ease and placed the tray on the table. She and Mr Phillips were closer now than they had ever been before. She put out a hand to touch his lapel, but checked herself quickly.
'Shall … shall I pour you a cup?' she asked.
'Thank you!' exclaimed Mr Phillips. 'Milk and—'
'—one sugar.' She smiled shyly. 'Yes, yes, I know.'
She poured the tea and handed the cup and saucer to him. He took it gratefully.
'Mr Phillips?'
'Yes?'
'Do I have a first name?'
'Of course,' he replied quietly and with great emotion. 'I have had over thirty years to think about it. Your name is Aurora, as befits somebody as beautiful as the dawn.'
She covered her nose and mouth to hide her smile and blushed deeply. Mr Phillips raised a shaking hand to touch her cheek but stopped as he remembered that I was still present. He nodded imperceptibly in my direction and said:
'Thank you, Miss Pittman – perhaps later you might come in for some … dictation.'
'I look forward to it, Mr Phillips!'
And she turned, trod softly on the carpet to the door, looked round once more and went out. When I looked back at Mr Phillips he had sat down, drained by the emotionally charged encounter.
'Do we have a deal?' I asked him. 'Or do I put the table back where it was?'
He looked shocked.
'You wouldn't?'
'I would.'
He considered his position for a moment and then offered me his hand.
'Pigs at treble the going rate?'
'Top of page two thirty-two.'
'Deal.'
Pleased with my actions so far, I collected the dog and jumped forward to the middle of page 232. By now the sale of Johnny's father's pigs was the talk of the town, and had even made it into the headlines of the local papers: Unprecedented pig price shocks town. There was only one thing left to do – replace the blind collie with the sighted one.
'I'm looking for the vet,' I said to a passer-by.
'Are you?' replied the woman amiably. 'Good for you!' and she hurried on.
'Could you tell me the way to the vet?' I asked the next person, a sallow man in a tweed suit. He was no less literal.
'Yes I could,' he replied, attempting to walk on. I tried to grasp him by the sleeve but missed and momentarily clasped his hand. He gasped out loud. This was echoed by two women who had witnessed the incident. They started to gossip volubly. I pulled out my ID.
'Jurisfiction,' I told him, adding: 'On official business,' just to make sure he got the picture.
But something had happened. The inhabitants of the village, who up until that moment had seemed to wander the streets like automatons, were all of a sudden animated individuals, talking, whispering and pointing. I was a stranger in a strange land, and while the inhabitants didn't seem hostile, I was clearly an object of considerable interest.
'I need to get to the vet,' I said loudly. 'Now can anyone tell me where he lives?'
