He looked around again, as though expecting to find gentlemen of the press peering over his shoulder, and continued, in a tone of increasing excitement, ‘Fortunately, this incipient fog has played into our hands.’
‘Go on,’ Clarissa encouraged him. ‘I’m thrilled, so far.’
‘At the last moment,’ Henry informed her, ‘the plane will find it inadvisable to land at Heathrow. It will be diverted, as is usual on these occasions–’
‘To Bindley Heath,’ Clarissa interrupted him. ‘That’s just fifteen miles from here. I see.’
‘You’re always very quick, Clarissa dear,’ Henry commented somewhat disapprovingly. ‘But yes, I shall go off there now to the aerodrome in the car, meet Kalendorff, and bring him here. The Prime Minister is motoring down here direct from Downing Street. Half an hour will be ample for what they have to discuss, and then Kalendorff will travel up to London with Sir John.’
Henry paused. He got up and took a few paces away, before turning to say to her, disarmingly, ‘You know, Clarissa, this may be of very great value to me in my career. I mean, they’re reposing a lot of trust in me, having this meeting here.’
‘So they should,’ Clarissa replied firmly, going to her husband and flinging her arms around him. ‘Henry, darling,’ she exclaimed, ‘I think it’s all wonderful.’
‘By the way,’ Henry informed her solemnly, ‘Kalendorff will be referred to only as Mr Jones.’
‘Mr Jones?’ Clarissa attempted, not altogether successfully, to keep a note of amused incredulity out of her voice.
‘That’s right,’ Henry explained, ‘one can’t be too careful about using real names.’
‘Yes–but–Mr Jones?’ Clarissa queried. ‘Couldn’t they have thought of something better than that?’ She shook her head doubtfully, and continued, ‘Incidentally, what about me? Do I retire to the harem, as it were, or do I bring in the drinks, utter greetings to them both and then discreetly fade away?’
Henry regarded his wife somewhat uneasily as he admonished her, ‘You must take this seriously, dear.’
‘But Henry, darling,’ Clarissa insisted, ‘can’t I take it seriously and still enjoy it a little?’
Henry gave her question a moment’s consideration, before replying, gravely, ‘I think it would be better, perhaps, Clarissa, if you didn’t appear.’
Clarissa seemed not to mind this. ‘All right,’ she agreed, ‘but what about food? Will they want something?’
‘Oh no,’ said Henry. ‘There need be no question of a meal.’
‘A few sandwiches, I think,’ Clarissa suggested. She sat on an arm of the sofa, and continued, ‘Ham sandwiches would be best. In a napkin to keep them moist. And hot coffee, in a Thermos jug. Yes, that’ll do very well. The chocolate mousse I shall take up to my bedroom to console me for being excluded from the conference.’
‘Now, Clarissa–’ Henry began, disapprovingly, only to be interrupted by his wife as she rose and flung her arms around his neck. ‘Darling, I am being serious, really,’ she assured him. ‘Nothing will go wrong. I shan’t let it.’ She kissed him affectionately.
Henry gently disentangled himself from her embrace. ‘What about old Roly?’ he asked.
‘He and Jeremy are dining at the club house with Hugo,’ Clarissa told him. ‘They’re going to play bridge afterwards, so Roly and Jeremy won’t be back here until about midnight.’
‘And the Elgins are out?’ Hugo asked her.
‘Darling, you know they always go to the cinema on Thursdays,’ Clarissa reminded him. ‘They won’t be back until well after eleven.’
Henry looked pleased. ‘Good,’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s all quite satisfactory. Sir John and Mr–er–’
‘Jones,’ Clarissa prompted him.
‘Quite right, darling. Mr Jones and the Prime Minister will have left long before then.’ Henry consulted his watch. ‘Well, I’d better have a quick shower before I start off for Bindley Heath,’ he announced.
‘And I’d better go and make the ham sandwiches,’ Clarissa said, dashing out of the room.
Picking up his briefcase, Henry called after her, ‘You must remember about the lights, Clarissa.’ He went to the door and switched off the concealed lighting. ‘We’re making our own electricity here, and it costs money.’ He switched off the wall-brackets as well. ‘It’s not like London, you know.’
After a final glance around the room, which was now in darkness except for a faint glow of light from the hall door, Henry nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 7
At the golf club, Hugo was busily complaining about Clarissa’s behaviour in making them test the port. ‘Really, she ought to stop playing these games, you know,’ he said as they made their way to the bar. ‘Do you remember, Roly, the time I received that telegram from Whitehall telling me that I was going to be offered a knighthood in the next Honours List? It was only when I mentioned it in confidence to Henry one evening when I was dining with them both, and Henry was perplexed but Clarissa started giggling–it was only then that I discovered she’d sent the bloody thing. She can be so childish sometimes.’
Sir Rowland chuckled. ‘Yes, she can indeed. And she loves play-acting. You know, she was actually a damned good actress in her school’s drama club. At one time I thought she’d take it up seriously and go on the stage professionally. She’s so convincing, even when she’s telling the most dreadful lies. And that’s what actors are, surely. Convincing liars.’
He was lost in reminiscence for a moment, and then continued, ‘Clarissa’s best friend at school was a girl called Jeanette Collins, whose father had been a famous footballer. And Jeanette herself was a mad football fan. Well, one day Clarissa rang Jeanette in an assumed voice, claiming to be the public relations officer for some football team or other, and told her that she’d been chosen to be the team’s new mascot, but that it all depended on her dressing in a funny costume as a rabbit, and standing outside the Chelsea Stadium that afternoon as the customers were queuing up to get in. Somehow Jeanette managed to hire a costume in time, and got to the stadium dressed as a bunny rabbit, where she was laughed at by hundreds of people and photographed by Clarissa who was waiting there for her. Jeanette was furious. I don’t think the friendship survived.’
‘Oh, well,’ Hugo growled resignedly, as he picked up a menu and began to devote his attention to the serious business of choosing what they would eat later.
Meanwhile, back in the Hailsham-Browns’ drawing-room, only minutes after Henry had gone off to have his shower, Oliver Costello entered the empty room stealthily through the French windows, leaving the curtains open so that moonlight streamed in. He shone a torch carefully around the room, then went to the desk and switched on the lamp that was on it. After lifting the flap of the secret drawer, he suddenly switched off the lamp and stood motionless for a moment as though he had heard something. Apparently reassured, he switched the desk lamp on again, and opened the secret drawer.
Behind Costello, the panel beside the bookshelf slowly and quietly opened. He shut the secret drawer in the desk, switched the lamp off again, and then turned sharply as he was struck a fierce blow on the head by someone standing at the recess. Costello collapsed immediately, falling behind the sofa, and the panel closed again, this time more quickly.
The room remained in darkness for a moment, until Henry Hailsham-Brown entered from the hall, switched on the wall-brackets, and shouted ‘Clarissa!’ Putting his spectacles on, he filled his cigarette-case from the box on a table near the sofa as Clarissa came in, calling, ‘Here I am, darling. Do you want a sandwich before you go?’
‘No, I think I’d better start,’ Henry replied, patting his jacket nervously.
‘But you’ll be hours too early,’ Clarissa told him. ‘It can’t take you more than twenty minutes to drive there.’
Henry shook his head. ‘One never knows,’ he declared. ‘I might have a puncture, or something might go wrong with the car.’
‘Do
n’t fuss, darling,’ Clarissa admonished him, straightening his tie as she spoke. ‘It’s all going to go very smoothly.’
‘Now, what about Pippa?’ Henry asked, anxiously. ‘You’re sure she won’t come down or barge in while Sir John and Kalen–I mean, Mr Jones, are talking privately?’
‘No, there’s no danger of that,’ Clarissa assured him. ‘I’ll go up to her room and we’ll have a feast together. We’ll toast tomorrow’s breakfast sausages and share the chocolate mousse between us.’
Henry smiled affectionately at his wife. ‘You’re very good to Pippa, my dear,’ he told her. ‘It’s one of the things I’m most grateful to you for.’ He paused, embarrassed, then went on. ‘I can never express myself very well–I–you know–so much misery–and now, everything’s so different. You–’ Taking Clarissa in his arms, he kissed her.
For some moments they remained locked in a loving embrace. Then Clarissa gently broke away, but continued to hold his hands. ‘You’ve made me very happy, Henry,’ she told him. ‘And Pippa is going to be fine. She’s a lovely child.’
Henry smiled affectionately at her. ‘Now, you go and meet your Mr Jones,’ she ordered him, pushing him towards the hall door. ‘Mr Jones,’ she repeated. ‘I still think that’s a ridiculous name to have chosen.’
Henry was about to leave the room when Clarissa asked him, ‘Are you going to come in by the front door? Shall I leave it unlatched?’
He paused in the doorway to consider. Then, ‘No,’ he said. ‘I think we’ll come in through the French windows.’
‘You’d better put on your overcoat, Henry. It’s quite chilly,’ Clarissa advised, pushing him into the hall as she spoke. ‘And perhaps your muffler as well.’ He took his coat obediently from a rack in the hall, and she followed him to the front door with a final word of advice. ‘Drive carefully, darling, won’t you?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Henry called back. ‘You know I always do.’
Clarissa shut the door behind him, and went off to the kitchen to finish making the sandwiches. As she put them on a plate, wrapping a damp napkin around it to keep them fresh, she could not help thinking of her recent unnerving encounter with Oliver Costello. She was frowning as she carried the sandwiches back to the drawing-room, where she put them on the small table.
Suddenly fearful of incurring Miss Peake’s wrath for having marked the table, she snatched the plate up again, rubbed unsuccessfully at the mark it had made, and compromised by covering it with a nearby vase of flowers. She transferred the plate of sandwiches to the stool, then carefully shook the cushions on the sofa. Singing quietly to herself, she picked up Pippa’s book and took it across to replace it on the bookshelves. ‘Can a body meet a body, coming through the–’ She suddenly stopped singing and uttered a scream as she stumbled and nearly fell over Oliver Costello.
Bending over the body, Clarissa recognized who it was. ‘Oliver!’ she gasped. She stared at him in horror for what seemed an age. Then, convinced that he was dead, she straightened up quickly and ran towards the door to call Henry, but immediately realized that he had gone. She turned back to the body, and then ran to the telephone, and lifted the receiver. She began to dial, but then stopped and replaced the receiver again. She stood thinking for a moment, and looked at the panel in the wall. Making up her mind quickly, she glanced at the panel again, and then reluctantly bent down and began to drag the body across to it.
While she was engaged in doing this, the panel slowly opened and Pippa emerged from the recess, wearing a dressing-gown over her pyjamas. ‘Clarissa!’ she wailed, rushing to her stepmother.
Trying to stand between her and the body of Costello, Clarissa gave Pippa a little shove, in an attempt to turn her away. ‘Pippa,’ she begged, ‘don’t look, darling. Don’t look.’
In a strangled voice, Pippa cried, ‘I didn’t mean to. Oh, really, I didn’t mean to do it.’
Horrified, Clarissa seized the child by her arms. ‘Pippa! Was it–you?’ she gasped.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he? He’s quite dead?’ Pippa asked. Sobbing hysterically, she cried, ‘I didn’t–mean to kill him. I didn’t mean to.’
‘Quiet now, quiet,’ Clarissa murmured soothingly. ‘It’s all right. Come on, sit down.’ She led Pippa to the armchair and sat her in it.
‘I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to kill him,’ Pippa went on crying.
Clarissa knelt beside her. ‘Of course you didn’t mean to,’ she agreed. ‘Now listen, Pippa–’
When Pippa continued to cry even more hysterically, Clarissa shouted at her. ‘Pippa, listen to me. Everything’s going to be all right. You’ve got to forget about this. Forget all about it, do you hear?’
‘Yes,’ Pippa sobbed, ‘but–but I–’
‘Pippa,’ Clarissa continued more forcefully, ‘you must trust me and believe what I’m telling you. Everything is going to be all right. But you’ve got to be brave and do exactly what I tell you.’
Still sobbing hysterically, Pippa tried to turn away from her.
‘Pippa!’ Clarissa shouted. ‘Will you do as I tell you?’ She pulled the child around to face her. ‘Will you?’
‘Yes, yes, I will,’ Pippa cried, putting her head on Clarissa’s bosom.
‘That’s right.’ Clarissa adopted a consoling tone as she helped Pippa out of the chair. ‘Now, I want you to go upstairs and get into bed.’
‘You come with me, please,’ the child pleaded.
‘Yes, yes,’ Clarissa assured her, ‘I’ll come up very soon, as soon as I can, and I’ll give you a nice little white tablet. Then you’ll go to sleep, and in the morning everything will seem quite different.’ She looked down at the body, and added, ‘There may be nothing to worry about.’
‘But he is dead–isn’t he?’ Pippa asked.
‘No, no, he may not be dead,’ Clarissa replied evasively. ‘I’ll see. Now go on, Pippa. Do as I tell you.’
Pippa, still sobbing, left the room and ran upstairs. Clarissa watched her go, and then turned back to the body on the floor. ‘Supposing I were to find a dead body in the drawing-room, what should I do?’ she murmured to herself. After standing for a moment in thought, she exclaimed more emphatically, ‘Oh, my God, what am I going to do?’
Chapter 8
Fifteen minutes later, Clarissa was still in the drawing-room and murmuring to herself. But she had been busy in the meantime. All the lights were now on, the panel in the wall was closed, and the curtains had been drawn across the open French windows. Oliver Costello’s body was still behind the sofa, but Clarissa had been moving the furniture about, and had set up a folding bridge-table in the centre of the room, with cards and markers for bridge, and four upright chairs around the table.
Standing at the table, Clarissa scribbled figures on one of the markers. ‘Three spades, four hearts, four no trumps, pass,’ she muttered, pointing at each hand as she made its call. ‘Five diamonds, pass, six spades–double–and I think they go down.’ She paused for a moment, looking down at the table, and then continued, ‘Let me see, doubled vulnerable, two tricks, five hundred–or shall I let them make it? No.’
She was interrupted by the arrival of Sir Rowland, Hugo, and young Jeremy, who entered through the French windows. Hugo paused a moment before coming into the room, to close one half of the windows.
Putting her pad and pencil on the bridge table, Clarissa rushed to meet them. ‘Thank God you’ve come,’ she told Sir Rowland, sounding extremely distraught.
‘What is all this, my dear?’ Sir Rowland asked her, with concern in his voice.
Clarissa turned to address them all. ‘Darlings,’ she cried, ‘you’ve got to help me.’
Jeremy noticed the table with the playing cards spread out on it. ‘Looks like a bridge party,’ he observed gaily.
‘You’re being very melodramatic, Clarissa,’ Hugo contributed. ‘What are you up to, young woman?’
Clarissa clutched Sir Rowland. ‘It’s serious,’ she insisted. ‘Terribly serious. You will help me, wo
n’t you?’
‘Of course we’ll help you, Clarissa,’ Sir Rowland assured her, ‘but what’s it all about?’
‘Yes, come on, what is it this time?’ Hugo asked, somewhat wearily.
Jeremy, too, sounded unimpressed. ‘You’re up to something, Clarissa,’ he insisted. ‘What is it? Found a body or something?’
‘That’s just it,’ Clarissa told him. ‘I have–found a body.’
‘What do you mean–found a body?’ Hugo asked. He sounded puzzled, but not all that interested.
‘It’s just as Jeremy said,’ Clarissa answered him. ‘I came in here, and I found a body.’
Hugo gave a cursory glance around the room. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he complained. ‘What body? Where?’
‘I’m not playing games. I’m serious,’ Clarissa shouted angrily. ‘It’s there. Go and look. Behind the sofa.’ She pushed Sir Rowland towards the sofa, and moved away.
Hugo went quickly to the sofa. Jeremy followed him, and leaned over the back of it. ‘My God, she’s right,’ Jeremy murmured.
Sir Rowland joined them. He and Hugo bent down to examine the body. ‘Why, it’s Oliver Costello,’ Sir Rowland exclaimed.
‘God almighty!’ Jeremy went quickly to the French windows and drew the curtains.
‘Yes,’ said Clarissa. ‘It’s Oliver Costello.’
‘What was he doing here?’ Sir Rowland asked her.
‘He came this evening to talk about Pippa,’ Clarissa replied. ‘It was just after you’d gone to the club.’
Sir Rowland looked puzzled. ‘What did he want with Pippa?’
‘He and Miranda were threatening to take her away,’ Clarissa told him. ‘But all that doesn’t matter now. I’ll tell you about it later. We have to hurry. We’ve got very little time.’
Sir Rowland held up a hand in warning. ‘Just a moment,’ he instructed, coming closer to Clarissa. ‘We must have the facts clear. What happened when he arrived?’
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