Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  Observing the horrified look that appeared on the other girl’s face, Alex was amused that his ploy had worked. It was clear that she was put out, but then found himself annoyed at the actual amount of reaction she had shown.

  Grace smiled at Alex. ‘I’m sure Arthur would be most grateful.’

  Alex heard tyres crunching on the gravel outside.

  ‘I’ll be ready in a few moments if that’s OK, Sarah?’ He got up and went outside.

  As he left, Sarah looked at Catherine in puzzlement. ‘What’s wrong with taking up his offer? I can’t think of any reason why you should disapprove. Anyone would suppose he was a criminal of some sort, rather than an officer of the law! A very attractive one, too. The original tall, dark and handsome.’

  ‘What would Jerry think?’

  ‘He would no doubt be quite glad I wasn’t using public transport at this time of night,’ Sarah replied, her tone firm. ‘What’s wrong with you? Don’t be so Victorian. He seems very nice.’

  ‘You seem to be getting on alright. I would imagine he must have a lot of practice in chat-up lines.’

  ‘Catherine, dear,’ Sarah got into her coat and picked up her bag, ‘with his looks and charm I don’t think he would have to do much chatting up, the line of willing females forming in front of him would be far too long.’

  She turned to her friend in time to observe the wave of colour flooding her face.

  ‘Oh Catherine, what am I going to do with you,’ she chuckled.

  She gave her friend’s cheek a kiss, just as Alex and Dougie came into the kitchen. Introductions were made and then Alex looked at Sarah.

  ‘All ready to go?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Bye all.’ She glanced once more at her friend and smiled. ‘I’ll ring you,’ and she winked.

  Alex said goodnight to the room as a whole, but looked in particular at Catherine Franklin, who had crossed over to the sink. He couldn’t see her face but her back view was eloquent enough. He shrugged and opened the back door for his companion.

  CHAPTER 6

  As the sound of the car faded into the distance, Catherine dried her hands and then made to leave the room.

  ‘I’m going to finish off some work before dinner, Grace. Call me if you need me.’

  She closed the door of the office behind her, and sat at her desk. She had no intention of doing any work. She had needed a quiet moment to herself. Watching the interchange between Sarah and Alex Hartman she had begun to feel envious of their apparent ease with one another.

  From her bedroom window the first day anyone had been aware of police at the house, she had watched the two men walking around the garden. Grace had told her that one was an Inspector, and observing the body language between the two she could tell which one was in charge. Some people had a natural aura of rank about them. As they both neared the house the man had glanced up at the windows and, moving back out of sight, she had noted that he was an attractive man. No doubt his air of casual arrogance came from the fact that he knew this and used it to his advantage. She had never felt comfortable with that sort of person, and made up her mind to keep herself detached and have as little to do with him as she could.

  So why, since she had first met him face to face, had she begun to experience a strange mixture of anticipation and excitement whenever she thought of him or saw him in person? Something she was at a total loss to explain. And what made her behave in so unpleasant a manner to him? His attitude was always polite; at least, on the surface. She had the impression, however, that this wasn’t what he was thinking. It was much nicer to have the easy friendliness that she found with the other two, but with Alex Hartman she felt unnerved and out of her depth. In any case, she remembered the warning Uncle Lionel had given her on the first night of their arrival. He was adamant that she was to have as little contact with any of them as possible, and in the event of any direct questioning she was to say nothing, in particular about his work. She was disappointed that he had found it necessary to remind her of this. He should have known she would do no such thing. She gave a small sigh. There was no point in letting it worry her. In a week or two this problem would all be over and the household would revert back to its usual quiet boredom. Why was that thought so unwelcome?

  *

  ‘Umm, this is luxury,’ said Sarah with an appreciative look around the interior of the Porsche.

  ‘My one weakness, I’m afraid,’ Alex replied, ‘a lucky tip off on the Stock Market gave me the money.’

  ‘Just the one?’

  Alex chuckled. ‘You’re the sort of tonic I need at the end of the day. I feel better already.’

  ‘Oh, I soon found out in my initial training there’s nothing like an hour or two in A&E or theatre to encourage some insane chatter.’

  ‘Do you specialise?’

  ‘Not at the moment, but I want to. I want to go into Rheumatology, in particular with children. Not the most sought-after career path, but it just interests me. Jerry, my intended,’ she explained with a smile, ‘wants to specialise in paediatrics, work with children, you know and it would be nice if we could work together.’

  ‘Are your parents medical?’

  ‘Yes, they’re doctors with the World Health Organization. They’re off crawling around a South American jungle at the moment. They’re often away.’

  ‘So that explains the boarding school.’

  ‘Yes. The downside of having parents in certain professions. Although mine always used to make sure one or the other, or both, were always there for my holidays. For some it didn’t work out as well.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ said Alex, his voice quiet. ‘I wasn’t lucky with having family around and I’ve spent most of my leave since I was seventeen on various courses and the like. Mark you, I suppose it’s stood me in good stead, but it can be a little on the solitary side.’

  ‘I’ve said to Jerry, if we have children I’m going to make sure I’m around for them.’

  ‘So it’s not just a career then? You’re looking for the ideal scenario: career, home and a family?’

  ‘It sounds as if that’s something you don’t subscribe to. Is it not for you?’

  Alex thought for a moment before replying. He’d never spent time considering the matter with any seriousness. If he was honest, he had for the most part always tried to avoid the whole subject.

  ‘I’m still working on my career, I suppose. Time and circumstances will alter things, I imagine, and there’s still plenty of both left.’ In the end it was all he could think of as a reply, and endeavouring to change the subject, he glanced at his companion with a smile. ‘Well, we do seem to have got on to a serious topic all of a sudden.’

  She grinned back at him. ‘There are some people you feel you can talk to, and others not.’ She gave him a considering stare. ‘I think I like you, Inspector Hartman.’

  Alex laughed out loud. ‘Well, thank you, Miss Jennings. It restores my confidence in myself. I was beginning to wonder.’

  ‘What’s between you and Catherine? She seems quite odd towards you. Not her normal self at all.’

  Alex concentrated on his driving for a while.

  ‘I couldn’t say. I don’t know what her “normal” is, do I?’

  ‘I think she’s just overwhelmed. She’s not used to dealing with experienced powerhouses of men like you.’ Alex shot a surprised glance at her for a moment before turning back to the road. ‘The men she’s ever had any dealings with have been these empty-headed wealthy old family types introduced by her uncle who talk about Daddy and polo and not much else. I’ve tried to get her to come to some of the hospital dances. I’m sure she would be a wow there, but she doesn’t seem to be interested. It’s a pity she ever agreed to work for her uncle. She should have found a proper job or gone to college. She’s bright enough. I know she loves history.’

  ‘Perhaps she feels she owe
s her uncle something for giving her a home.’

  ‘He hasn’t had to expend that much. Her parents’ estate paid for her schooling, as I understand it. The rest of it is left to her in some sort of trust for when she’s twenty-five. The strange thing is, Catherine’s not bothered about the idea of money, hers or other people’s. She’s very generous, as I know all too well, and she enjoys being so, but she’s quite happy curled up at home with a book rather than being out partying; and you can imagine what a hit she would be. It’s a shame.’

  ‘Sarah, you shouldn’t be telling me all this.’

  ‘Oh, I would imagine with all the things you must see and know, and have to remain quiet about in the course of your job, all this is quite tame to you.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’m sure she wouldn’t like the idea of you talking to me about her.’

  ‘That’s the strange thing; as I’ve said, I find you very easy to talk to. I’m surprised that Catherine hasn’t found the same. For some reason I feel that she’s quite the opposite.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter. In a few weeks all this will be over, and our paths won’t cross again. Now, it’s time for you to give me some directions.’

  Alex followed her directions and tried to keep his mind off the fact that some small part of him felt that the acceptance of him by Catherine Franklin did matter.

  He pulled up as instructed outside the terrace of white, bay-fronted villas.

  Sarah turned to him. ‘Well, here we are: Number Twenty-Nine. Now, don’t get the wrong idea, but would you like to come in for a drink or something? Jerry should be along in a moment, and I’m sure he would like to meet you. Perhaps we could all have something to eat. Unless, of course, you have something more interesting arranged.’

  She was back to her banter again, Alex realised. ‘No, that’s the best offer I’ll have tonight, so yes, thank you very much.’

  When they went inside the first floor flat he looked around with interest. ‘Umm, very nice. Much better than mine, by quite a distance.’

  ‘My father bought it many years ago as a sort of investment. They don’t seem to spend much time here, though. It’s handy for the Brompton Hospital. Sit down, Alex, make yourself at home. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Nothing alcoholic, thank you.’

  After making him a coffee she busied herself in the kitchen, starting to prepare a meal. Jerry arrived a few minutes later. He also worked at the Brompton Hospital. He greeted their unexpected guest with a warm smile and, as Sarah had anticipated, was grateful to Alex for his generosity.

  ‘It was kind of you to put yourself out. I don’t like the idea of her doing a journey of that distance on her own at this time of night when it’s dark.’

  Over the meal Alex found himself, under gentle questioning, which he recognised but somehow didn’t mind, explaining about his own career choice.

  ‘It started when my father put me in the Army to straighten me out, as he put it at the time. I must admit I didn’t appreciate the imposed discipline at first, but once the rough edges had been knocked off, sometimes in a literal sense, I came to enjoy it. I might have stayed in, but I was still young and thought there were other things to do. It was strange that I went straight into the police force.’ He smiled at them. ‘It was a good move, though. I was lucky, and I’ve now reached Inspector and want to go higher.’

  ‘I would imagine your father is proud of you.’

  Although Sarah’s comment had been expected, he didn’t quite know how to reply. After a moment he spoke the truth. ‘When my father put me in the Army he went off to Canada and I haven’t seen or heard of him since.’

  The other two were silent for a moment and then Sarah commented, ‘Well, families, as we said earlier, are not always ideal. Good friends can be a real help, though. Now we’ve come to know you, perhaps we can keep in touch.’ She looked over at Jerry, who nodded.

  Alex felt quite moved. In a gallant action, he grasped her hand and brought it up to his mouth and planted a kiss on it.

  ‘You wouldn’t have done that if you’d known what I was doing this morning!’

  As the laughter died away, it was inevitable the talk between the two men came round to cars. Jerry appreciated the Porsche and began to tell Alex how Sarah’s father had left him in charge of a 1930s Aston Martin held in a lock-up mews garage a few streets away.

  ‘He co-owns it with two friends who are also abroad quite a lot. She’s a beauty, four cylinders that make the most marvellous noise, soft top, spoke wheels and chrome to die for. I take her out for a spin when I have the time and the weather is OK. Next time, suppose I contact you?’

  Sarah went into the kitchen to do the washing up, listening to them chatting away. It was nice to see that although Alex was a little older, they were getting on so well. She had noticed his slight hesitation in answering her questions during the car journey, and what appeared to be his unease at the topic of family. Now, learning about what must have been quite a traumatic time in his early life, she was beginning to form the impression that on the inside he was not as cool and in command as he liked to portray. Well, she thought with a shrug, being the handsome, eligible bachelor he was, he ought not to have too much of a problem when he did want to find someone special.

  Rather like Catherine, she realised. Her friend was just the same. She thought about earlier on today, of the almost electric atmosphere in the kitchen between Alex and Catherine, and Catherine’s strange attitude to him. How interesting!

  *

  Alex arrived home to find that a message had been put through his door. It was short and to the point: ‘Whitehall. 10 p.m. tonight.’

  After the enjoyable evening he had just experienced, the message brought him back to reality. He looked at his watch. He would just make it.

  CHAPTER 7

  Johnny Clarke looked out of the window and watched the traffic, lighter now at this time of night. He downed the rest of his gin in one swallow. Would that old rogue Franklin pull it off again, he wondered? Villiers had promised him he would. What the hell did Atkinson think he was playing at, getting caught in that way! Dabbling in weapons for the first time, you had to be sure of your contacts. Too greedy, that was his trouble. The sniff of a profit and he was there like a rat up a drainpipe. He should have spotted the police a mile away, instead of getting sucked into their little game. Now he’d been forced to work hard, calling in favours to get the stupid bugger out of a hole. A lighter sentence was all he could hope for. Serve him right if he had to do a full stretch.

  The trouble was, Clarke thought to himself, things like this were making him too reliant on people such as Franklin, and the favours being asked in return were getting expensive.

  He didn’t trust the Judge. Villiers was more his sort of man. One of those snooty, successful lawyers, who wasn’t afraid to do deals for his own benefit in some less orthodox ways. They had done each other several lucrative favours over these last few years. The problem was, Clarke thought, he was losing some of his bargaining power. Although only in his late twenties, he had been making a name for himself in the pecking order of the London underworld, much to his satisfaction, and had become known as someone prepared to do anything for anybody as long as there was money in it. The trouble was, it didn’t make him look too clever at the moment, considering it was one of his own associates in the dock. He’d have to throw some weight around to regain lost ground. Old Jack Ellison must be having a good laugh at his expense. He knew he regarded him with contempt as a young contender to his throne, with little chance of taking it. Perhaps he might have to think up something very interesting that wouldn’t look too good on Ellison, just to try to even the score.

  He turned and looked at the young woman sprawled on the bed, still fast asleep. He’d wake her up in a minute. If she didn’t perform better this time, he’d teach her a lesson. She was beginning to bore him anyway; time for a change
. She’d also been asking too many questions for his liking. Just because she’d been his regular for some time, she was beginning to get airs and graces. Yes, little Miss Lucille Prentice, you’d better watch your step, or Johnny Clarke will show you who’s still boss.

  He put down his glass and moved towards the bed.

  *

  Alex was able to park using his pass. Wondering if he was going to hear more intrigue, or at last find some answers, he went up to the same office as before. The security guard in the lobby must have rung ahead, as Francis opened the door when he approached.

  ‘Good evening. I wondered if my message would catch you tonight.’

  Taking a seat, and seeing they were on their own, Alex felt a little uncomfortable that his superior was not present.

  ‘Sir John doesn’t like to undertake duties at this time of the day.’ Francis was correct in interpreting Alex’s thoughts. ‘Are you aware that he has some, er… health problems?’

  ‘Yes. I gather he’s about to retire.’

  ‘Indeed, and who will succeed him, I wonder? Any thoughts yourself?’

  ‘Assistant Commissioner Rankin seems to be proactive with various initiatives, with some success of late, but I haven’t had much association with him so I’m not that aware of him as a person. The powers that be have never seemed keen on a straight, moving-up appointment; more of a new broom opportunity.’

  ‘Quite. It’s a powerful job. The right man could control quite a lot… or even the wrong man.’ Francis gave Alex a keen look. ‘If the wrong man were in that position, there could be all sorts of quiet irregularities possible.’

  ‘But that’s what these watchdog committees are for.’

  ‘Even they can be suborned.’

  ‘That sounds to me like something in the realm of fantasy,’ Alex retorted with a frown. ‘No one could trust anyone else if you follow your logic through.’

  ‘It would be unsettling, I grant you, but just humour me for a moment and think about it. Imagine if, over a wide spectrum, certain people holding certain positions were not all working for the greater good, if you want to put it that way. Not all of those need to be in high-profile jobs, just the ordinary working man or woman, causing disruption in one form or another. A lot of damage could be done. Small damage, but drop by drop it could make a difference. Countries have fallen in the past because of one small action.’