The Good Mayor Read Free Page A

song about “The Boy I Love” that her granny had taught her when she was a little girl. She had sung it to Stopak when they were first walking out together. It was only then, when she was older, that she had understood how naughty the words were. It made her happy. It made her happy to remember Granny and the old days with Stopak and the thrill of it—and the naughtiness—and it made her happy to think of that little red box and the naughtiness to come. She was happy anyway. It wasn’t the song. It was the box and hope that made her happy. A little box full of hope, like Pandora’s box but without the bad stuff. Just the hope and a little bit of naughtiness and she would be glad to let that escape out into the world.

    The coffee machine gave a final snort, like Stopak just before he rolled over in the night, and Agathe poured out two cups—one for her and one for Good Mayor Krovic. Then, with a couple of ginger biscuits balanced in the saucer, she wiggled through the office, past her desk and towards the mayor’s room. Before she even opened the door, she heard him whistling “The Boy I Love.”

    “I haven’t heard that song in a long time,” he said, taking the saucer. “My grandmother used to sing it.”

    “Mine too,” said Agathe.

    “She was a wicked old woman, my grandmother.”

    Agathe laughed. “Mine too. She was the child of pirates, you know.”

    “She was not!”

    “No, truly. The child of pirates or a lost Russian princess.Nobody knew. They found her when she was very small, wandering along the beach one morning, sucking her thumb and cuddling a velvet blanket with red and gold stripes. A kind farmer took her in and made her his own. But I think she must have been more pirate than princess. Imagine teaching a young girl a song like that!”

    “All things are pure to the pure,” said Tibo. He pointed with his pen and asked, “Is that for me?”

    Agathe was puzzled.

    “The Braun’s box? A present for me?”

    She was surprised and a little embarrassed to see the scarlet package swinging from her left hand. “This? Oh, this! This. No. Not for you. Sorry, I bought it at lunchtime. I must have picked it up by mistake. No. Not for you. Sorry. Just for me. Well, that is. No.” Agathe began to back out the door but Tibo called her back.

    “Everything all right, Mrs. Stopak? I mean things at home. I know you and Stopak … well, a sad time. We were all very sorry. If you could do with a day or two off work, we can manage. I can get one of the girls from the Town Clerk’s Office to come in. It’s not a problem.”

    Agathe put on a solemn face. “You’re very kind, Mayor Krovic, but, honestly, things are fine now. Things have been bad but they’re better now. Honestly. Much better.”

    “I’m glad,” said the mayor. “Look, I won’t need you any more today. Why not take the rest of the afternoon off?”

    That made Agathe very happy—after all, she had some new clothes she wanted to try on. She thanked him and left the office. From behind the door, she heard him shout, “And thanks for the coffee.” Good Mayor Krovic.

    The sun was still sparkling in the fountains of City Square as Agathe left the Town Hall. With her coat thrown over one arm, she crunched over the gravel along the boulevard on the banks of the Ampersand. She strolled along the avenue, switching from pools of sunshine to dark blobs of elm-shade and back into sunshine, swinging her handbag as she walked in time to “The Boy I Love”playing inside her head. At Aleksander Street, she stopped at the delicatessen to buy some bread and cheese and cooked ham but she came out with all that and more—a green papier mâché carton of strawberries, the first of the season, a bottle of wine, a bar of chocolate and, at the bottom of her bag, alongside the little scarlet package from Braun’s, two bottles of beer. “If St. Walpurnia does her job, he’ll need to build his strength up,” she said to herself.

    There