Faye allowed Reverend Ryan to pour her more tea and gratefully accepted his offer of a macaroon. Henry glanced at the photographs of Reverend Ryan and his wife that sat on the mantelpiece and thought that perhaps Reverend Ryan and his wife had consumed one too many macaroons over the years.
‘Now, why don’t you put all this silliness behind you and focus more on serving God. We need ladies like you at church.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Faye easily flattered.
Henry rolled his eyes.
‘Yes, let’s not focus on unimportant things like murder.’
He watched as Reverend Ryan and Faye ate another macaroon. If the vicar could have opened his mouth any wider he would have eaten the whole thing in one go, Henry thought, his lip curling in disgust. As it was, he took off a half of it in one massive chomp. Then he crunched it up with his mouth opening every time he chewed, treating Henry to a view of the partially masticated biscuit.
‘Right,’ said Henry decisively, standing up.
Faye, now full of macaroons, stood up also.
‘Thank you so much, I feel so much better.’
‘See you in church,’ smiled Reverend Ryan, leading her to the front door.
‘Not in a month of Sundays,’ Henry quipped.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Henry walked to Rita’s in a daze. He felt very tired and it didn’t help that he got lost once and had to retrace his steps. It was still raining, and Henry figured he couldn’t get any wetter. He had no idea whether it was nine. He was still reeling from the séance. It had left him quite drained, and the time with Reverend Ryan had only frustrated him more. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired. Rita would comfort him. He’d be able to sleep on her cosy couch and maybe she’d even make him a mug of hot chocolate. He’d ask for lots of sugar. Hopefully that would revive him. He finally saw the bus stop and hoped a bus would turn the corner at any moment, but he was too tired to stand and wait and far too tired to walk. If only he could hail a taxi. Then just as he decided to continue walking a bus turned the corner and Henry got on. It was a relief to sit down. Henry smelt fish and chips and realised he was quite hungry. A lad in front of him was tucking into a bag of chips and they smelt delicious. Henry suddenly felt angry that he could be so hungry but couldn’t walk into the fish and chip shop and buy himself some food. He got off the bus and walked the short distance to Rita’s bedsit. Loud voices reached him as he approached, and it took a moment for him to realise it was Billy’s blaring television set. Henry had forgotten about him. He was about to ring the doorbell when it opened, and Rita stood smiling at him.
‘I saw you from the window,’ she said.
The sounds of the television were louder now. Billy was watching another stupid comedy show with canned laughter.
‘Is it too late?’ he asked, hoping very much she would say it wasn’t.
‘I thought you weren’t coming and that perhaps you had sorted everything out and were having sausages with Imogen.’
The mention of sausages made Henry hungry all over again.
‘What is the time?’ he asked, stupidly glancing at his watch.
‘Almost ten,’ she said.
‘Oh, I hadn’t realised it was that late. I was hoping for a hot chocolate and maybe a sandwich.’
Rita thought he made her bedsit sound like a café, but she didn’t really mind. She liked preparing food for Henry.
‘I’ve made you a cheese and tomato,’ said Rita proudly. ‘I’ve not had my hot chocolate yet.’
Henry thought if he stood on the doorstep for much longer the rain would wash him away.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Oh yes, hurry before Billy hears us.’
‘Hears you,’ corrected Henry.
No one ever saw him; no one at all.
The cheese and tomato sandwich was excellent. Even better was the fact, that once he’d finished it, it miraculously appeared on the plate again.
‘I wonder, can I stop the night again?’ asked Henry.
