Strange Tide
“‘Tell him I’m having another one of my attacks. He’s up to something. There’ll only be trouble.’ The doorbell rang for the third time. ‘Tell him I think I’m at the battle of Waterloo or something. There’s trickery afoot or my name isn’t . . .’ There was an unfeasibly long pause.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Alma, dragging a trolley full of religious pamphlets along the hall. ‘I have to go out. He can at least sit with you for a while.’ ‘I’m not five years old!’ The doorbell rang a fourth time. ‘Where are my jelly babies?’ ‘They’re in your head.’ ‘I’m not imagining things!’ ‘I mean in that horrible Tibetan head, where they always are. I’m going to let him in.’ ‘If you do I’ll never eat any more of your cabinet pudding again.’ ‘Then I’ll take it to my parishioners.’ ‘Why would you be so cruel? You could sell that stuff to Holloway Prison and no one would ever have the energy to try and escape. Please don’t open the—’ It was too late.
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