Grave Matters – Margaret Yorke

The bar was filling up now, and Fred Brown’s daughter had appeared to help her father. Patrick excused himself and left. As he went round the side of the building to collect his car a red mini came fast down the lane, scattering water from the puddles that had formed since it had rained earlier in the day. It must be Valerie. Though Ellen sometimes borrowed the car, she would never drive like that. All the same, at the village telephone box Patrick stopped and dialled Ellen’s number. This time she answered promptly.

He told her that he had booked her room at the Randolph for the next weekend and said he would meet her at the station if she would let him know which train she would be on. She promised to send a postcard, thanked him, and seemed anxious to end the conversation. Patrick knew she was not alone, and just as certainly he was sure that David Bruce, known not to be in Meldsmead that evening, was with her.

He stopped at the garage, which was still open, and filled up with petrol. The owner was chatty. Patrick discovered that he did the maintenance for almost everyone in the village. They talked for some minutes and then Patrick drove up the lane to the vicarage. Mr. Merry had suggested he should call when he was in Meldsmead; it was to be hoped that tonight was not Mothers’ Union night, or the time appointed for Confirmation class. It was not. Mr. Merry himself opened the door and recognised Patrick at once.

‘Come in, come in,’ he cried warmly, and called over his shoulder, ‘Meg, my dear, we have a most welcome visitor.’ His wife appeared almost immediately beside him, small, smiling, rather like him, the very personification of her name. A most appetising smell was coming from the inner regions of the house, and Patrick, who fully intended to cadge a meal if invited, nevertheless felt shame as the vicar introduced them.

‘What a terrible time to call,’ he said. ‘You’re about to have dinner.’

First published in 1973 © Margaret Yorke; House of Stratus 1973-2012 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The right of Margaret Yorke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted. This edition published in 2012 by House of Stratus, an imprint of Stratus Books Ltd., Lisandra House, Fore Street, Looe, Cornwall, PL13 1AD, UK. Typeset by House of Stratus. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library and the Library of Congress. #xa0; EAN ISBN Edition #xa0; 0755130146 9780755130146 Print #xa0; 0755134702 9780755134700 Kindle #xa0; 0755134818 9780755134816 Epub #xa0; This is a fictional work and all characters are drawn from the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance or similarities to persons either living or dead are entirely coincidental. #xa0; www.houseofstratus.com OceanofPDF.com About the Author #xa0; Born in Surrey, England, to John and Alison Larminie in 1924, Margaret Yorke (Margaret Beda Nicholson) grew up in Dublin before moving back to England in 1937, where the family settled in Hampshire, although she now lives in a small village in Buckinghamshire.

During World War II she saw service in the Women’s Royal Naval Service as a driver. In 1945, she married, but it was only to last some ten years, although there were two children; a son and daughter. Her childhood interest in literature was re-enforced by five years living close to Stratford- upon-Avon and she also worked variously as a bookseller and as a librarian in two Oxford Colleges, being the first woman ever to work in that of Christ Church.

She is widely travelled and has a particular interest in both Greece and Russia. Margaret Yorke’s first novel was published in 1957, but it was not until 1970 that she turned her hand to crime writing. There followed a series of five novels featuring Dr. Patrick Grant, an Oxford don and amateur sleuth, who shares her own love of Shakespeare.

More crime and mystery was to follow, and she has written some forty three books in all, but the Grant novels were limited to five as, in her own words, ‘authors using a series detective are trapped by their series. It stops some of them from expanding as writers’.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: a80abb6b7a5df555
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 702,805 bytes (0.67 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• ISBN: 9780755130146, 9780755134700, 9780755134816, 0755130146
• Pages: 182
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 259.06 minutes
• Total Words: 51,813
• Total Characters: 287,015
• Average Words per Page: 284.69
• Average Characters per Page: 1577.01

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