Three days later, Stratton was just about to leave the office for another round of entirely pointless interviews about the deaths of Marks and Wallace, when the telephone rang, and Cudlipp’s voice said, ‘A Mrs Calthrop on the line for you, Sir.’
‘Thank you.’ He sat down abruptly, feeling slightly breathless. ‘Hello? Are you there?’
‘Edward.’ Diana spoke so quickly that he lost the first part of what she said.
‘ … and I know I shouldn’t, but I just … I wanted … Look, do you think we could meet?’
‘Meet? Well, I don’t know if that’s really …’
‘It’s just,’ Diana hesitated for a moment, before the rest of the sentence poured out in a desperate gabble. ‘You’re the only person I can talk to about this. I know we’re not supposed to, but I’d really like to … Please, Edward. After all, nobody’s actually said we shouldn’t, have they?’
‘Not in so many words, no, but I’m sure they would have done if it had occurred to them.’
‘But they haven’t actually … I know I shouldn’t have telephoned you. I’ve been trying to get up the courage for days, and now it’s no use.’ She sounded close to tears. ‘I knew you’d be too—’
‘Diana, wait. Where are you?’
‘In a telephone box in Piccadilly.’
‘Are you on your way somewhere?’
‘I have to be back at Dolphin Square by four, but …’
Stratton glanced at his wrist watch: quarter past two. ‘There’s a café in Denman Street, Dorleac’s, first on your left off Shaftesbury Avenue. It’s the only one in the street. I’ll meet you there.’
Stratton hurried down Regent Street. He’d wanted to see Diana, hadn’t he? He’d been worried about her. He was certain that this was a bad idea, but all the same … His elation at the thought of meeting her again was tempered with guilt that he should feel quite so pleased about it. And she wanted to tell him something. About Apse, perhaps, or Marks? Not that he could do anything about either, so there wasn’t a lot of point, but still …
His first thought, as he glimpsed her through the criss-cross of tape on the plate glass of the café door, was how utterly out of place she looked, seated at a battered plywood table in a grubby room filled with the greasy fug of mingled cigarette smoke, steam, fried kipper and rancid sausages. At least, he thought, as he hung up his hat and coat on the row of pegs by the door, none of her smart friends would be likely to drop in for a cuppa.
Even in the short time he took to get from the door to her table, his awareness of her was intense. In an effort not to stare he fixed his eyes on a printed notice on the wall behind her: There is NO depression in this house, and we are not interested in the possibilities of defeat. THEY DO NOT EXIST. Jesus, he thought. As if being constantly exhorted to Dig For Victory, Register, Save Money, Spend Money, Be Cheerful, Enrol, Volunteer, and Not Talk Carelessly wasn’t enough, now they’re trying to tell us what to think.
The breathless feeling – she was, if possible, even more beautiful and elegant than he’d remembered – was back in spades by the time he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. ‘I’m sorry about the place. It was the only one I could think of that was close.’
‘It’s fine. I can’t honestly recommend the tea, but it doesn’t matter, I’m just glad …’ Diana ducked her head, and continued in a voice so quiet that Stratton had to lean forward to catch what she was saying, ‘It’s been vile. F-J insisted on packing me off to my mother-in-law’s for a week, but I couldn’t bear it, so I came back.’
‘But you’re back at work now, are you?’
‘Yes, from Monday. No-one’s mentioned it, of course. Lally – she’s another of F-J’s girls – has been very kind. I think F-J must have told her to keep an eye on me. She says it’s best to try and forget the whole thing as quickly as possible. I daresay she’s right, but …’
‘But what?’ Stratton, realising this sounded rather brutal,
attempted to soften it with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
‘Not you as well,’ said Diana, sadly. ‘I hoped that you, at least, would …’ She tailed off and stared miserably down at her cup and saucer. ‘I feel as if I’m in gaol.’
‘Would you like to tell me what happened?’ asked Stratton. ‘If you think it might help, that is.’
‘Yes, I would. You see, I went to Apse’s flat, and I found him – well, you know about all that – and then I ran out into the garden … Dr Pyke was there. I don’t know if you know, but he’s a neighbour of F-J’s, and I think he works for us, although I’ve never been told that officially. He took me up to F-J’s flat, and then they gave me something to make me sleep. They already knew, Edward. They knew Apse was dead. The next thing I remember is waking up in F-J’s flat, in bed,’ here she turned slightly pink, ‘in my underclothes, so I suppose Dr Pyke must have … F-J came in to see me, and when I asked about what happened – about Apse – he said it was all being taken care of. I had to make a statement about it. A policeman came to the flat to talk to me – I wanted to get up, but F-J wouldn’t let me, and he stayed there all the time. He kept saying “I’m sure that will do”, and that I needed to rest, which was nonsense because I felt fine by then, and when the policeman tried to ask me a question, he wouldn’t let him.’ At this point, she was interrupted by the waitress taking Stratton’s order. When the woman had gone, she said, ‘I tried to ask F-J about it again, after the policeman had gone, but he just patted my hand and said that it was probably all for the best.’
‘It was certainly convenient,’ said Stratton wryly.
‘There’s something else, too. About Claude. That morning, I got to the office early and I overheard F-J talking to him.’
‘To Ventriss?’
‘Yes.’ Diana leant forward and whispered, ‘I think F-J’s in love with him, Edward.’
‘What?’
‘They were talking about Apse – what he’d done – I’d told Claude about it, which I shouldn’t have, but now I think he must have known anyway. Some of it, at least. He was taunting F-J, saying he and his friends thought they could get away with … you know … what they do … I thought F-J would be furious, but he wasn’t. He
just seemed to accept it. And,’ she continued in a rush, ‘I think Dr Pyke may be one of them as well, because once I came into F-J’s office when he wasn’t expecting me and F-J’s shirt buttons were undone. F-J said it was a medical check but afterwards, when I pointed out about the buttons, he looked down at his trousers, as if … I thought perhaps it was more than just blood pressure, because you wouldn’t have to … would you? Not for that. This happened before I found out about Apse, and it didn’t occur to me until much later that perhaps …’
‘Do you remember that afternoon in Colonel Forbes-James’s office when you pointed out the painting of the naked boy? I wondered then if you were trying to tell me something.’
‘I … I don’t really know what was going through my mind. I suppose I just wanted to see if you thought it was strange. I mean, I know there are lots of nudes in art galleries, but they’re older, aren’t they? When I asked F-J about it and he said that Apse had given it to him, I thought … Well, I don’t know what I thought exactly, just that it would be silly to have a picture like that hanging on your wall if you were that way inclined, I suppose …’
‘The picture certainly surprised me,’ said Stratton.
‘I couldn’t believe, I didn’t want to believe that … that, you know … about F-J, until I heard him talking to Claude, and then …’
‘Then there was little doubt. I take it his … fondness for Ventriss is not reciprocated?’
Diana shook her head. ‘Claude uses it. But he’s loyal to F-J. He’s done … things … for him.’
‘Sir Neville?’
‘I don’t know. But certainly other things. And F-J telephoned him that afternoon, didn’t he? We heard him. And why was Dr Pyke in the garden? That evening, when I came back to Dolphin Square, it was dark, and—’
‘Wait a minute. You say you went back?’
‘Yes. That afternoon, F-J told me to go home, but to be ready by ten and Rosemary Legge-Brock would collect me in the car.’
‘He told me you were working late.’
Diana shook her head. ‘I went home and came back. Rosemary had a message from F-J that I was to go up to Apse’s flat and fetch some documents. Rosemary told me she’d volunteered to do it,
but F-J said they wouldn’t be ready. But there weren’t any papers, Edward, just – him.’
‘Did Colonel Forbes-James say why he wanted you to return to Dolphin Square? Apart from collecting the papers, that is.’
Diana shook her head. ‘I assumed it must be something to do with your meeting with Mr Marks. He gave Rosemary a message for me about Apse not being there, because of him coming back that first time. I think,’ she added, ‘that F-J made me find Apse as a sort of … well …’
‘Warning?’
‘Yes. I don’t know if he knows that I know about him, but—’
‘He knows I know,’ said Stratton.
Diana’s eyes widened. ‘How?’
‘I told him.’
Diana gasped. ‘Edward, you didn’t!’
‘Not in so many words. But he knows I know. Not that I can prove anything. Neither of us can. That’s why we’ve got to keep quiet about this. Abie Marks is dead, Diana. He was found three days ago, with one of his henchman. Shot. I’m supposed to be investigating, but we won’t find anyone.’
Diana blanched. ‘Claude,’ she said.
‘I don’t know,’ said Stratton. ‘Possibly. It’ll be chalked up as the result of a turf war between rival gangs.’
‘I daren’t ask him,’ said Diana.
‘Ask Ventriss?’ Stratton experienced an instantaneous and nauseating jolt of jealousy, and before he had time to check himself he had asked, in the tones of a suspicious husband, ‘Have you been seeing him again?’
Diana blinked, then bowed her head.
‘What about your husband?’
‘Abroad. I can’t bear to think about him.’
‘Are you mad, Diana?’
‘Probably,’ Diana whispered. ‘It’s awful. I don’t know what to do. He wants us to carry on seeing each other. He treats it like a game, and now that I know about F-J’s feelings for him … I haven’t told Claude about that, of course,’ she added, hurriedly. ‘I’m not completely insane.’
‘But you’re still in love with him, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am. I can’t help it.’ This was said with an implacable,
almost defiant certainty that infuriated him.
‘For God’s sake!’ Stratton exploded. ‘You’ll have to bloody well try to help it. He’ll destroy you, Diana. Between the two of them, him and Forbes-James, you haven’t got a chance. You don’t matter to either of them, any more than I do. Can’t you see that?’ Diana, her eyes glistening with tears, nodded.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Stratton, more gently. ‘I know I’ve no business …’ Impulsively, he reached across the table and took Diana’s hand. She didn’t respond, but neither did she make any move to extract herself. ‘I’m concerned about you, that’s all.’
Diana blinked rapidly for a moment, then withdrew her hand. ‘Don’t be kind to me, or I really shall cry.’
‘All right.’ Stratton attempted a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll try not to be. But,’ he added, unable to stop himself, ‘I can’t help it.’
‘You must.’ Diana attempted a smile. ‘I’m not worth it. As you can see,’ she gave a resigned shrug, ‘a hopeless case.’
‘Ventriss is dangerous. You of all people should know that. He’s playing with fire, and so are you, if you have anything to do with him. Please, Diana,’ he added, desperately, aware that her face was becoming glacial and mask-like. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped the mark. But you did ask to see me, and all I can do is give you my advice.’
Diana continued with the haughty stare for a moment before her face broke up and her mouth began to tremble once more. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, fumbling in her bag and drawing out a handkerchief. ‘I know. And you’re right. I’m sorry, Edward. It’s just that so much of life seems to be about people not telling one things. It’s always because something can’t be mentioned, or isn’t done, or isn’t quite nice, or is unsuitable, or—’ she nodded towards the sign on the wall ‘– like that notice, telling you something doesn’t exist when it does, because it’s bad for morale. There’s always some reason why people can’t say what they really mean. Especially now.’ This was said very quickly, in an attempt, Stratton thought, to beat the tears that were gathering in her eyes. Putting the handkerchief to her face, she said, ‘Oh, dear. NBG again, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, they do say truth is the first casualty of war,’ said Stratton, feeling helpless. ‘But,’ he added, ‘you can help yourself. About Ventriss, I mean. Be careful, Diana. Remember what I said.’
‘Yes.’ Diana dabbed at her eyes again, then produced a compact
from her bag and powdered her nose. Stratton, who had hoped for at least some intimation that she wasn’t going to see the bloody man again, felt disappointed, although he knew he had no right to expect any such thing. He was hardly in a position to offer an alternative and besides, they were both married, for God’s sake. Diana shut her compact with a snap and gave him a watery smile. ‘How’s that?’
‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘Beautiful, in fact.’
‘You know,’ said Diana, ‘I really should be going.’
‘I think you’d better go first, then. Just as a precaution.’
‘All right. Here.’ She took out her purse.
Stratton held up his hand to stop her. ‘It may not be much of a treat, but it’s my treat.’
‘Thank you.’ Diana stood up. ‘And thank you for your advice.’ Stratton stood up, too, and they shook hands for what seemed like a long time, but probably wasn’t. ‘Goodbye, Diana. And good luck.’
Diana leant over, and – to the great interest of two elderly charwomen at a nearby table – kissed him on the cheek.
‘I shall never forget you, you know. Goodbye, Edward.’
Stratton watched as she walked between the tables towards the door, but she didn’t look back. He didn’t know if she would, or could, take his advice, but he hoped, just as he hoped he would one day see her again. That was all you could do really, about anything, when you came down to it.
Sighing, he turned round and picked up his cup. Noticing, for the first time, the marks of a previous drinker’s lipstick on the part of the rim nearest to his mouth, and hoping, as he rotated the cup to a clean spot, that Diana had not observed them, he drank the remains of his tea.