It was hard for Tommy to concentrate on anything other than what they had learned about Barbara, but she knew that, as Fred had advised, patience was their best course. Fred promised that he was making enquiries as quickly as he could.
‘I’m meeting a friend in the Army and Navy Club this afternoon. I hope he’ll be able to help me.’
They met in the Ritz bar afterwards, and he told her that his friend had been very helpful. ‘A pal of his knows Duncan Hastings. He was a prisoner of war – and presumed dead for a spell. But then he was reported alive, and was sent home in the autumn of last year.’
Tommy said excitedly, ‘Perhaps he was in touch with her then. And that’s why she went to ground, moving from friend’s house to friend’s house. Duncan Hastings might not know Veronica. He certainly didn’t know me. How would he track her down, if she doesn’t want to be found?’
‘We could be charitable and assume that she doesn’t know he’s alive,’ Fred said. ‘It’s risky to get engaged to a man with a husband still living. But we’ll find out what we want to know tomorrow. I’m meeting him at the Reform for tea.’
‘Let me come,’ she begged.
‘I suppose it can’t hurt,’ Fred said thoughtfully. ‘All right. Meet me outside at a quarter to four and we can be ready for him.’
Tommy had barely slept when she arrived at the Reform Club in Pall Mall the next day. Fred was waiting outside for her, smoking under a street lamp, and greeted her with a kiss as she came up.
‘Hello, darling. Well, here we are. In a few minutes we ought to know everything we need to about Barbara Hastings.’
He took her inside and the porter directed them up the staircase to the upper landing that ran around the great inner courtyard. Tea tables were positioned all around the square so that those sitting at them could look over and get a view of the splendid mosaics of the ground floor.
A waiter came to take their order for tea, and then they waited. Tommy took a cigarette from Fred and smoked nervously, looking up every time anyone appeared on the landing.
‘What time is he due?’ she asked fretfully.
‘Any moment now,’ Fred said. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be here.’
A few minutes later, Tommy saw a man emerge from the mouth of the staircase at the far side of the landing. He was tall and disconcertingly thin, with the shadow of a tan on his skin despite the lack of sunshine outside, and dressed in a shabby demob suit and a thin overcoat. He spotted them at once, and made his way over, ignoring the few single men with their newspapers and air of concentration.
‘How do you do,’ he said as he reached them. ‘Duncan Hastings.’ He held out his hand to Fred, who stood up and took it.
‘Fred Burton Brown. And this is Mrs Eliott.’
‘How do you do.’ Hastings nodded politely and then took off his hat and sat down at the chair indicated by Fred. ‘How can I help you?’
‘Did Bowles tell you anything about why I wanted to see you?’ Fred asked. He looked grave and businesslike as he took out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Smoke?’
‘Thank you.’ Hastings took one and let Fred offer him a light. He said, ‘My doctor wouldn’t be happy about this. He says my lungs are shot. I told him it was all that kept me going during the years in my holiday camp, and if that meant I lost a year or two, it was damn well worth it, considering I didn’t expect to get out at all.’ He glanced at Tommy. ‘Excuse my language, Mrs Eliott.’
‘That’s perfectly all right,’ Tommy said. She reached for a cigarette as well, hoping that her hands weren’t shaking too obviously. Fred leaned over to light it. ‘You must have had a bad time of it.’
‘Pretty much.’ Hastings took a long drag of his cigarette and said, ‘Ah, here comes your tea.’
The waiter set out the tea things and brought a cup for Hastings. He passed the bill silently to Fred, who shut a note into the red leather folder and gave it back to him with a nod. When the waiter had left, Fred turned his attention to Hastings.
‘We want to ask you about your wife.’
Hastings looked surprised for a moment and then collected his cool demeanour. ‘I see. Know where she is, do you?’
‘Perhaps. More to the point, do you know where she is?’
‘Haven’t a clue,’ Hastings said. ‘She’s being very clever about keeping herself and my daughter hidden. I’m getting information through a solicitor, that’s all. But I don’t know where to find her.’
Tommy felt a rush of elation. So Barbara did know that her husband was alive. ‘I take it your marriage is not a success, Mr Hastings? If you’ll forgive the personal question.’
‘Of course.’ Hastings looked at her with a small smile. ‘I have the impression you know Barbara. In that case you’ll be aware that she’s a cool customer with a strong instinct for self-preservation. She’s damned attractive too, and can make a man feel he’s just about the best there is. That’s what she did for me, and I fell for it. But in the end, it was all just a big pretence. She made a fool out of me more than once, and I took it, not just for her but for the child.’ He gave Tommy a sudden swift, almost pleading look. ‘Have you seen Molly? Do you know if she’s all right?’
‘She’s perfectly fine,’ Tommy said softly, feeling sorry for him. ‘She’s a sweet little thing, with lovely manners. We all like her a great deal.’
‘I’d love to see her,’ Hastings said wistfully. ‘But I never worried too much – I knew Barbara would look after her. She’s good that way.’
‘What contact have you had with your wife, Mr Hastings?’ asked Fred.
‘Not much. I tried to find her but with no success. I put the word out among our old pals that I was looking for her. Old Lazarus, you know, back from the dead. I hoped she might be pleased but I was rudely awoken from that little dream quickly. The word must have got back. I told people that any correspondence should go to me at my old club – not a grand place like this, a little place north of Bloomsbury, more of a boarding house really. That’s where the letters started to come. She wanted a divorce. But we would have to do it secretly. She would move to a town in the north where no one knew her, establish residency and divorce me there, so long as I’d provide evidence of infidelity. I said, that’s all very well, but asked her why, and sent the reply back to the lawyer she appointed.’
‘And what did she say?’ asked Fred. He sipped his tea and watched Hastings intently over the top of his teacup.
‘Answer came there none,’ replied Hastings with a laugh. ‘Not right away at least. Then I got a very short, sharp reply. “How much?” or words to that effect. I wondered how Barbara had come into enough money to pay me off. She never had much before beyond what I gave her.’
‘When was this?’
‘Oh, last year. Not long before Christmas. She was evidently in a hurry to be rid of me, for whatever reason. She probably had her eye on some poor sap.’
Tommy frowned. Perhaps . . . perhaps that’s why Veronica wanted her gone so badly. It’s possible Barbara was eyeing up her husband and considering making a move. She looked over at Fred, but there was no way to convey all this, and anyway, he was looking at Hastings.
Fred said, ‘Did you decide to give her a divorce?’
‘I wasn’t going to roll over,’ Hastings replied, and took a long pull on his cigarette. ‘I know Barbara and I wasn’t going to let her win just like that. I knew we’d both enjoy a final tussle a little too much. And she had my girl. I had my conditions. Access to the girl. And five hundred pounds.’
Tommy gasped. ‘Five hundred! I don’t know how Barbara would get that kind of money.’
‘She can get money if she needs it, all right. She’d do anything for cash. She was free enough with her favours in India if she could get some return on it.’
Tommy blushed deep red at the implication. Had Barbara really stooped so low? If she had, there was no knowing what else she might do. ‘If that’s what you think,’ she said in a tremulous voice, ‘how can you leave your daughter with her?’
‘I’d like nothing better than to have Molly to myself. However, I know Barbara can be a lot less than a paragon but I do know she’d never expose Molly to anything unsavoury. She has a strong sense of decorum, believe it or not.’
‘Yes,’ Tommy said thoughtfully. ‘I know what you mean. But still, Mr Hastings—’
‘Listen, you two,’ Hastings said, suddenly brusque. ‘Is this some kind of church meeting or what? What’s your offer?’
‘What do you mean?’ Fred said quietly, flicking a quick glance at Tommy.
‘I presume you’ve been sent by Barbara to move this divorce along. So you’ve come to offer me money. I know five hundred pounds is steep but it’s what I need to set myself up and I believe Barbara could be good for it, and I deserve it if I’m to lose my girl.’ He held up a warning hand. ‘Though I’ll have some visiting rights, you can be sure of that, or I’ll drag her through the London courts, sue her on the grounds of her infidelity and be sure to scupper her chances of ever marrying a decent man again.’
Tommy and Fred looked at one another and burst out laughing.
‘What is it?’ asked Hastings crossly. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing,’ Tommy said, giggling. ‘It’s not funny. It’s just . . .’
‘We would like nothing better than for you to decide to divorce your wife in a blaze of publicity, that’s all,’ Fred said. ‘But I have a feeling you won’t do that if you think it would serve our purpose. So let’s come to a compromise. A letter from you, confirming that you are legally married to Barbara Hastings, and your whereabouts, should we need to contact you. After that, you’re free to work out the end of your marriage in any way you choose. So . . .’ Fred took another sip of his tea then put the china cup carefully back in the saucer. ‘I suppose the only question to resolve now is your price.’
When Hastings had left, having signed a letter quickly written out by Fred in the nearby library and pocketed a cheque for fifty pounds, Fred and Tommy faced each other over the tea table. Fred leaned across and took her hand.
‘Darling, we’ve got her,’ he said exultantly. ‘She’s known all along her husband is alive. She’s guilty of attempted bigamy, and we’ve got her on the ropes. Roger is going to be free, just as soon as we can get down to Kings Harcourt and confront her. I have some appointments tomorrow. Shall we leave on Friday?’
‘Yes, Friday.’ Tommy clutched his hand. ‘My God . . . we’ve done it. I can hardly believe it. They’ll have to believe us now. And you know what this means, don’t you, Fred? I can go home.’
When she got back to Celia’s flat that evening, still hopping inside with excitement from the plans that she and Fred had been making, she found a telegram addressed to her on the hall table. She opened it quickly and read the brief message on the piece of paper inside.
COME HOME AT ONCE STOP ROGER MISSING STOP