Grave Concerns
“‘Sorry,’ Drew said to Genevieve. ‘But I’d better see who that is.’ ‘No problem,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll mind the baby for you, if you like.’ She bent down to play with Stephanie as Drew opened the door. He stepped outside, closing it behind him, suddenly the discreet undertaker.
Although not in fact wearing tweeds, the man standing on the path outside was decidedly tweedy. A scratchy-looking moustache with eyebrows to match, walking stick and gruff tones all combined to stereotype him. ‘You the ...funeral chap?’ he demanded of Drew.
‘That’s me.’ ‘Do you do dogs?’ ‘Dogs! Er – well, it hadn’t really occurred to me.’ He pulled himself together. ‘I don’t see any reason why not.’ His visitor cast an eye across the field; Drew supposed that this man too had read the papers, and knew what the far corner had revealed. The moustache was quivering.
‘We could fence off an area for pets,’ Drew said, thinking aloud.MoreLess
Although not in fact wearing tweeds, the man standing on the path outside was decidedly tweedy. A scratchy-looking moustache with eyebrows to match, walking stick and gruff tones all combined to stereotype him. ‘You the ...funeral chap?’ he demanded of Drew.
‘That’s me.’ ‘Do you do dogs?’ ‘Dogs! Er – well, it hadn’t really occurred to me.’ He pulled himself together. ‘I don’t see any reason why not.’ His visitor cast an eye across the field; Drew supposed that this man too had read the papers, and knew what the far corner had revealed. The moustache was quivering.
‘We could fence off an area for pets,’ Drew said, thinking aloud.MoreLess
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