Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  With an effort, trying to regain his composure, he managed to stammer, ‘I… I’m to take you home. Are you ready?’

  Catherine just nodded, and they walked to the main door. There were plenty of taxis milling about and a member of the Embassy staff hailed one for them. Alex felt her shivering in the cool air.

  ‘You needed a coat, Catherine.’

  ‘I know, but I left my shawl behind. I was in a hurry when we left.’

  Alex took off his overcoat and put it round her slim shoulders as their taxi pulled in.

  ‘Who was the attentive gentleman?’

  ‘The French Ambassador.’

  It was stated in such a matter-of-fact way that he wanted to laugh. Any other young woman who had just hit it off with an important French diplomat at a prestigious social event would have been falling over herself with excitement and self-congratulation. The whole thing seemed to have left Catherine unmoved. Perhaps another example of her upbringing, was his sudden unhappy thought. For one stupid moment he considered suggesting that instead of going back to Richmond they could go on somewhere – it wasn’t that late yet. But he found he didn’t quite have the courage to face her predictable refusal, and in view of his earlier discovery it was maybe just as well. He did, however, want to regain that sense of friendliness that had begun to build between them over the last few days.

  ‘Did you enjoy the evening?’ He was desperate in his search for something to say to her. She was just sitting there, silent, staring out of the taxi window, looking small, enveloped in his coat.

  ‘It was a bit of pressure having to speak French most of the time, out of courtesy. Unless you use something like that every day you can soon get rusty.’

  ‘I’m sure you can. I’ve never had a go at languages. English can be a trial at times!’

  She did turn her head and smile at this remark. He wanted to hold that smile but could think of nothing more to say. Sitting in the enclosed confines of the taxi, smelling her perfume and looking at her sweet face, he knew that talking to her was the last thing he wanted to do. All her worst fears would be realised if she could read his mind, he thought.

  They arrived at Richmond far too soon for him. He paid off the taxi and led her inside, closing the door behind them before the alarm could go off. The hall was lit by one small lamp on a table at the foot of the stairs and it created a warm, intimate glow. He watched her as she moved away and placed his coat on a leather chair near the stairs. With one small foot on the bottom tread she turned back to him, her dress billowing about her slim form. ‘Thank you for the loan of your coat, and thank you for bringing me home Alex.’ She then turned to go.

  He crossed to her side. It was important for someone tonight besides her gallant French escort, to tell her how beautiful she looked, and he wanted it to be him.

  ‘Catherine?’

  She turned back and registered surprise at seeing him standing next to her at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at her, from the shining curls, the creamy skin and soft green eyes, to the slender curves of her body under the wafting folds. He brought his gaze back up to her face. Her eyes now seemed like dark green velvet and her mouth with its covering of gloss glowed wet in the dim light. His hand reached up to smooth away a tendril of hair which had curved onto her cheek, and he felt her tremble at his touch. He tried to calm his rioting senses and, in a deliberate move, lowered his hand to the banister between them.

  ‘You look so beautiful tonight, Catherine.’

  Then, ignoring a subconscious warning to remain detached, he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. The merest butterfly touch, but it started a fire within him. Hearing her murmur his name brought him back to his senses. He drew back from her.

  ‘Get up to bed, Catherine. Now!’

  His voice sounded sharp and loud in the silent house. He reached for his coat on the chair, uttering an oath. He thought he heard her gasp and, with a soft rustle of skirts, she ran up the stairs.

  Damnation, he was in an impossible situation, feeling the way he did about her but knowing she was out of his reach. He reminded himself that he had a duty to concentrate his full attention on his professional duties; but it was beyond him tonight. Swearing with uncontrolled violence he left the house, threw himself into his car and drove away at speed. To hell with waiting until Dougie arrived, or any of them for that matter, he needed to get away fast because if he stayed in that house tonight he might do something he would regret.

  Who was he kidding? He knew he wouldn’t regret it at all.

  CHAPTER 14

  Grace sat at the kitchen table, her hands toying with the pile of placemats in front of her and every few moments she looked up at the kitchen clock as the minutes crawled by. Where was everyone, and what should she do when they returned? Then, as her anxiety grew, she heard the Rolls in the drive. She rose and started to prepare a supper tray in case any refreshments were needed. It startled her when the Judge burst into the kitchen.

  ‘Where are my niece and Hartman? His car is not here.’

  Grace made a decision. She replied in quiet tones, trying to appear calm.

  ‘Catherine is asleep in bed. I have just helped her to undress and given her a nightcap and Inspector Hartman left the premises as soon as he arrived with Catherine.’

  ‘Left? He was supposed to be here.’

  ‘I couldn’t say, Judge. I didn’t speak to him.’

  The Judge swore and stormed upstairs. Grace watched him go and prayed he wouldn’t try to wake Catherine, but he went straight into his room.

  She hoped she’d done the right thing! A couple of hours earlier she had heard what sounded like a car returning, and moments later the Porsche leaving, but it was the sound of someone in distress which made her leave her room to investigate. She found Catherine lying on her bed, sobbing and almost beside herself. After a while she managed to quieten the girl, but dare not upset her again by trying to find out what had happened. Grace never thought for a moment that Alex would mistreat her in any way, but something had occurred. With Alex gone, she knew there was no cover at the house; but no one else appeared to be home, so the Judge was still out. There must have been a change of plan. What should she do when the Judge did return? Should she mention anything about Catherine?

  She had helped the still distraught girl out of her clothes and into bed, and then took her up a drink together with one of her own sleeping tablets. Risky, but in this case she thought, necessary, and after all they weren’t that strong.

  With relief she saw Arthur come into the kitchen. She would tell him what had happened. To her amazement, Dougie was with him, and both were looking puzzled.

  ‘Has Alex gone, Grace?’ asked Dougie.

  ‘Yes, he has.’ She was reluctant to say any more, even to him, just yet.

  Dougie shrugged his shoulders and then sighed ‘Oh well, it looks as if I’m here until the morning. Have you any strong coffee going?’

  *

  Catherine had woken to a grey dawn, and the thoughts of the night before swamped her again. She recalled how, when she reached her room, she stood in the middle of the floor not knowing what to do next. How had it gone so wrong? He had kissed her, so soft and sweet. If she could have somehow shown that she wanted him to continue, his kisses would have been everything she had ever needed. She had tried to tell him, but then he had been angry with her. How else could she have shown him? She would much rather have been out with him alone all evening than being fawned over by some Frenchman. Was there something wrong with her attitude, for men to behave this way with her? If so, she didn’t know what it was. The tears started to come again, and she turned her head into the pillow and allowed them to fall once more.

  *

  Dougie, having received official notification that Inspector Hartman had been moved to other duties, was instructed to continue the Richmond detail under his own contr
ol. The case had now concluded and, although it made the papers for a day or two, after it quietened down, Franklin declared that he felt he no longer needed his protection, and requested it be ended.

  On Dougie’s last day, Catherine asked for a word with him and they sat together again in the kitchen. He had studied her over the last few days and thought that she looked almost ill. There was no longer any glow to her. He was sure something had happened between her and Alex the night of the reception. Although Grace told him Catherine had remained silent about the events of that night, something had distressed her. He was almost sure he knew what it might be: Alex had told her that there was no future between the two of them, and she hadn’t taken it well.

  Then another thought occurred to him. Grace had indicated that when the Judge arrived back he demanded to know the whereabouts of his niece and Alex, in such a way that it made her suspicious, even more so when he seemed angry to find the situation normal. Dougie gave the matter a fair amount of consideration. After making a lot of fuss about going on with friends to the Club, the Judge had, in fact, asked to be driven home less than an hour later. Catherine could have remained in the car with Arthur for this short time and saved everyone a lot of bother. It began to occur to him that it had been the Judge’s deliberate intention to set up a scenario that night whereby Catherine and Alex would be alone at the house, and then be found in a compromising situation. Alex had either foreseen this happening, or he himself didn’t want it to happen, which was why he left in a hurry. It was, after all, pretty obvious to everyone in the household that there was some sort of attraction between the two of them. He felt sorry at the outcome, but that was always the trouble, working in close proximity with members of the public.

  He looked again at Catherine. She didn’t want to talk about Alex, he was pretty sure, but something was bothering her.

  ‘How can I help you, my dear?’ He tried to be as gentle with her as he could. She seemed so fragile.

  ‘Dougie, you know the trial and how it ended, the historical law information brought up at the end? That was research which my uncle had asked me to do for him. He told me what to look for, and in the end I found it. If I hadn’t, the outcome would have been a little different, wouldn’t it?’

  Dougie glanced at her again. ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘Have I changed the course of justice by digging it out?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Written law information is there for anyone to find. It depends how hard you want to look for it, I suppose. You haven’t done anything wrong, you know, my dear, if that’s what’s worrying you. You were asked to do something and you did it.’

  ‘It’s not the first time it’s happened, Dougie. Maybe not in such a public way, but I believe things I have been asked to research before have made a difference. I’ve seen correspondence from barristers. Why does my uncle want to bother so?’

  ‘I couldn’t say, my dear. I shouldn’t let it worry you any more.’

  She smiled her thanks at him, opened her mouth to say something else, then thought better of it and left him alone in the kitchen.

  Dougie began thinking. As he had suspected, was that what all this was about? Was the Judge being investigated for possible abuse of his position? Did Alex know the truth? Well, it was all over now, and none of his business any more from tonight.

  CHAPTER 15

  Lionel Franklin stretched to ease his stiff shoulders. It had been a long day in Court. As he shrugged out of his robes his thoughts turned yet again to the recent weapons case. During his summing up he had brought in the information sourced for him, and the jury had returned the verdict he had sought and anticipated. Guilty, but with a recommendation for a reduced sentence due to mitigating circumstances.

  At the sentencing hearing he had handed down the requisite term, but with a small reduction. There had been the usual murmurings on the benches, some positive by Defence Counsel, the other side less so. He had quite expected to be paid a personal visit for feelings to be aired. It wouldn’t be unusual – but so far he had received no such approach. Today though, for the first time since that trial, he knew both he and Raven were in the building.

  There was a knock on the door, and one of the Court messengers entered.

  ‘Mr Raven is asking to see you, Judge.’

  Franklin smiled to himself. Right on cue!

  ‘Ask him to come in.’

  Anthony Raven was a tall, imposing man, and used it to effect in commanding attention in Court. He was still dressed in his robes, which accentuated the impression, but Franklin had long ago ceased to be influenced by these theatrical figures with their inflated egos. Having said that, Raven was smart and Franklin had already born the brunt of one or two skirmishes with him. He was no fool.

  ‘I wondered if I might have the pleasure of your presence, Raven.’

  ‘Then I needn’t waste my time explaining the reason for my visit. I think you know my views on the timing and dubious relevance of the information you supplied to the jury. If it hadn’t been brought to their attention, I wonder if they would have agreed to the recommendation you suggested.’

  He came further into the room, and Franklin had to recognise the force of his presence.

  ‘As I made clear, Judge, my clients were engaged on an important investigation observing who was involved in illegal arms trading. Vital information for counter-terrorism purposes. As admitted in evidence, Atkinson was known to my clients as having made a purchase, being observed by an undercover officer during the negotiations. In his client’s defence, Mr Metcalfe suggested the police might have warned Atkinson of their knowledge and offered him a chance to assist them, rather than apprehend him by later posing as potential buyers. This point was then accentuated by your comments regarding similar situations that had occurred in the past. In my view, this swayed the attitude of the jury as to Atkinson’s position and the supposed activities of the police.’

  ‘Everyone was well aware of all the facts, Raven. My outlining of scenarios in other similar cases was to assist in clarifying the views of the jury.’

  ‘Circumstances which didn’t fit the immediate facts, and none of which were relevant to the severity of the weapons on offer here. Plus, if I may say so, brought up at such a late stage in the case that little proper consideration could be given to their merits in apportioning any blame.’

  Franklin settled a cool gaze on the other man. ‘Weapons are weapons, Raven. I might make the comment that I felt neither you nor Mr Metcalfe covered yourselves in glory as to the representation of your respective clients in this whole matter, in the end relying on my intervention.’

  Raven stared at him in astounded silence for a moment, appearing to control himself with some effort.

  ‘Judge Franklin, I, and indeed others, are at times unhappy with the way you conduct your Court.’

  ‘Mr Raven, might I remind you that I run my Court as I see fit, and I will make that apparent to any barrister who comes before me. In the end you obtained your guilty verdict, and should be satisfied. However, if you, or any other person has any complaint then they should take the matter up through the correct channels. Now, if that is all? If you don’t mind…’

  He turned his back and sat down at his desk. A moment later he heard the door slam. He was well aware of the attitude many had towards him. To hell with what they all thought, he was still a Judge, and still in control!

  *

  As Dougie was leaving headquarters one evening he bumped into Alex; although on reflection he suspected that the other man had contrived the meeting. There had been no contact between them since the night of the Embassy reception. He rather doubted the story of Alex being moved to other duties. There were rumours flying around of an almighty row with his superiors; understandable, when he had walked off the job.

  ‘Hello Dougie. Are you in a hurry, or do you fancy a drink?’

  Dougie s
tudied Alex. He looked pretty strained and tired, he thought, not full of his usual energy.

  ‘Yes, sure. Why not.’

  They didn’t speak again until they were settled at a secluded corner table in the nearest public house. Dougie had asked for a beer but he noticed that Alex chose a whisky.

  Alex cleared his throat. ‘I just want to get something out of the way first, Dougie. I’m sorry if I dropped you in it that night. Circumstances… changed.’

  ‘Didn’t make much difference to me, apart from lack of sleep. It all wound up after a few more days anyway.’ He sensed this wasn’t the reason for Alex waylaying him and so he just drank his beer and waited.

  ‘Dougie, I’ve been asked to take on a special duty. I need someone to work with me, and I thought about you. What I’m going to tell you is confidential, in a big way. I’m not supposed to mention it to anyone, but I can’t expect you to get involved without knowing what you’re doing. I won’t insult you by asking for your word of honour not to breathe a word, but you get the idea.’

  Dougie looked at Alex, his gaze steady. He knew this man played fair and here was a good example. Good detective work was a team game, so Alex was breaking the rules to allow Dougie to see the full picture.

  ‘Fire away, Boss. I’m on board so far.’

  In a quiet voice, Alex began to outline to him the content of all the discussions so far between Sir John and Mr Francis. As he listened, Dougie thought about it, and came to the same conclusion as Alex: that the wrong people in certain positions could cause trouble. Alex told Dougie as much as he knew about Richmond, but confirmed that he was still unaware of just what was wrong there.