A Full Churchyard Read Free Page A

before approaching his desk.
    But he did not immediately sit down. As always, the office cleaner had moved his desktop treasures to unwelcome locations and so he returned them all to their proper places. He inched his blotter and its load of correspondence to the right, put the coaster for his coffee mug even further to the right so that spilt coffee would not stain official papers, and then moved his model horse-trough full of paper clips towards the rear. He aligned his in-tray, out-tray and pending-tray, and took out of his drawer a rounded stone paperweight known as a witch-stone. It served as a useful paperweight which he placed on top of the correspondence heaped upon his blotter. It would prevent papers blowing all over the office should anyone open the window.
    Witch-stones, known also as hag-stones, were circular pieces of rock about the size of one’s hand, and they had a hole through the centre. They were formerly thought to deter witches or protect livestock when displayed in houses or stables but Montague preferred to use his as a paperweight. He had found it during one of his trough-hunting expeditions on the North York Moors and had recently discovered it made an ideal resting place for his mobile phone.
    Having restored his desk to its state of normality he sat down. Mrs Plumpton in her adjoining office with the door open heard the movements of his chair and recognized it was time to visit him.
    She floated into his office amidst a dress of flowing gossamer-like fabric in soft purple shades. It did little to keep her warm or conceal her well-rounded figure but she liked the dress and often wore it because she sensed it intrigued Mr Pluke. However, he wasn’t unduly distracted by the vision that regularly confronted him and with an immense display of willpower, was able to dismiss all erotic thoughts and so avoid accusations of sexism. After all, he was the Detective Inspector in charge of Crickledale Sub-Divisional CID and must distance himself from any such carnal distractions especially when on duty. After all, he enjoyed a very comfortable home life where he had Millicent and her boiled eggs to admire.
    â€˜Good morning, Mr Pluke,’ Mrs Plumpton beamed as she bore down upon him with a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. As she bent low to place it on his desk, she remarked, ‘A nice morning for the time of year.’
    â€˜There is an old Greek saying, Mrs Plumpton, that if January had its own way, it would be a summer month. It is quite often the case that we can enjoy fine and sunny weather in January.’
    â€˜I pretend it’s summer all the time, Mr Pluke. I do believe in being cheerful and sunny.’
    â€˜An admirable trait. So did you know there is an old saying in France that if the sun shines on the feast day of St Vincent, we shall have more wine than water?’
    â€˜You know such a lot of interesting things, Mr Pluke.’
    â€˜It comes from years of experience and research, Mrs Plumpton. And you should know that St Vincent’s Day occurred on January 22nd. You may recall that the sun did shine that day. Now, am I right in thinking there is not the usual amount of incoming correspondence? My pile of mail seems smaller than usual.’
    â€˜Certainly that’s true, Mr Pluke. Computers and emails are combining to reduce your morning mail. However, there are one or two items that require your signature and a few emails for attention but there’s nothing of an urgent or contentious nature. There are a few circulars and routine matters I can deal with.’
    She left him in a cloud of something that smelled like hyacinths, whereupon he promptly started to sneeze. Hyacinths had that effect on occasions but once she was inside her own office, his sneezing stopped. Was he allergic or sensitive to Mrs Plumpton, her perfume or hyacinths? Or all three?
    â€˜Bless you, Mr Pluke,’ her voice wafted through the door. ‘I hope it wasn’t my