Palmer-Jones 05 - Sea Fever Read Free

could carry on without the hope that I might see Greg again soon.”
    Then George knew that the decision had been made for him, and that he would find it impossible to refuse the work. Dennis Franks looked on with silent bewilderment and pain.
    Muriel remained standing, as if she expected them to leave at once to find her son. She had expected immediate and dramatic action. Molly looked at her with concern.
    “We’ll need to know a little more about Gregory,” she said. “When did he first leave home?”
    Perhaps they could help, she thought, just by allowing the woman to talk about her son. Perhaps that was more important than persuading Greg that he should show her a little consideration by visiting her occasionally and letting her know where he was staying.
    Muriel returned reluctantly to her seat. “ I don’t know,” she said. “Not exactly. About twelve months ago. He’s phoned since then, but he’s not been back to stay.”
    Dennis came to her rescue. “ He was always hard to keep at home,” he said. “ Even as a lad.”
    “Has he ever been in trouble with the police?” Molly asked.
    “He was charged once,” Franks said. “It was soon after he’d left school. We didn’t find out until later. We thought he’d disappeared on one of his birdwatching trips. He was in a bail hostel in the city. But he was found not guilty in the Crown Court. He hasn’t got a criminal record.”
    “What was he charged with?”
    “Burglary,” Franks said. “He was supposed to have broken into a house.”
    “It was all lies,” Muriel Franks interrupted. “The case was thrown out. He should have come to us and told us all about it. We would have understood. We always did. We only found out he’d been in court because there was a fire in the hostel, and Greg’s picture was in the paper. He was a hero. He saved someone.”
    She seemed about to launch into the details of Greg’s heroism, but, with one of her sudden swings of mood, changed her mind.
    “All this isn’t important!” she said impatiently. “I can tell you exactly where Greg will be this weekend. You should be getting ready to meet him, not talking about the past.” She sprang once again to her feet. “A letter came here a while ago by mistake,” she said. “ It wasn’t personal—I wouldn’t ever open his personal mail—but I thought it might give me some idea where he was. I knew it would be useful. I’ll get it for you!” She hurried from the room.
    Dennis Franks moved uneasily in his chair. On the road outside there was the squeal of brakes and the sound of a horn.
    “I don’t know what to do for the best,” he said. “She’s set her heart on seeing him. I know he’ll not stay, but when he comes, he always puts on a big show—brings her flowers and that—so he makes her happy for a while. I’m afraid she’s made herself ill. She’s always been wrapped up in him. Perhaps when I retire, I’ll be able to help her more.… It’s a difficult age for a woman.…”
    He coughed a small, embarrassed cough, and they waited for Muriel Franks to return.
    She rushed back into the room, breathless and eager, waving a folded piece of white paper. In the other hand was a brown envelope. She handed the paper to George, who read it carefully. The letter was a receipt and confirmation of booking. It was from a travel agency which specialised in natural history and birdwatching, based in Bristol. It said that a place had been reserved for Gregory Franks on the pelagic trip which would leave Heanor on August 27th. Accommodation had been booked at Myrtle Cottage at Porthkennan for the remainder of the week. It was signed by Rob Earl, the agency’s resident ornithologist.
    “I didn’t understand it,” Muriel Franks said. “What is a pelagic trip anyway?”
    “ Pelagic is an American expression,” George said, “ It’s a boat trip especially organised to allow birdwatchers the best possible views of rare seabirds.”
    But as he spoke, he