The Summer That Never Was
“There was something austere and headmasterly about the room that always intimidated her. Partly, it was to do with the tall bookcases, mostly filled with legal and forensics texts, but dotted here and there with a classic such as Bleak House and Anna Karenina, books Annie had never read, books that mocked her with their oft-mentioned titles and their thickness. And partly it was Gristhorpe’s appearance: big, bulky, red-faced, unruly haired, hook-nosed, pockmarked. Today he wore grey flannel tro...users and a tweed jacket with elbow patches. He looked as if he ought to be smoking a pipe, but Annie knew he didn’t smoke.
“Right,” said Gristhorpe after he had asked her to sit down. “Now, tell me what the hell’s going on out Mortsett way.”
Annie felt herself flush. “It was a judgement call, sir.”
Gristhorpe waved his large, hairy hand. “I’m not questioning your judgement. I want to know what you think is happening.”
Annie relaxed a little and crossed her legs. “I think Luke Armitage has been kidnapped, sir.MoreLess
“Right,” said Gristhorpe after he had asked her to sit down. “Now, tell me what the hell’s going on out Mortsett way.”
Annie felt herself flush. “It was a judgement call, sir.”
Gristhorpe waved his large, hairy hand. “I’m not questioning your judgement. I want to know what you think is happening.”
Annie relaxed a little and crossed her legs. “I think Luke Armitage has been kidnapped, sir.MoreLess
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