Again he was close to her, and she smiled into his piercing, unsettling eyes. He was a strange kettle of fish - she never knew where she stood with him. She would never have believed he could be so familiar, but it did give her confidence. At one point he made her turn her head so that he could straighten one of her earrings which had become entangled in a stray curl. His fingers brushed her neck and he allowed his hand to linger for a second too long, then he turned his attention back to his guests. They sat quietly, not sure how to react to Sir Charles’ ‘lady’. Seeing him so intimate with her made them even more uncomfortable.
Occasionally Evelyne shot a sidelong glance at David. He seemed oblivious to everything, even to his food now, and was staring, stony-faced, at the wallpaper. His only gesture was to lift his wineglass to his lips, his movements neat and delicate. When the next course arrived Evelyne had to pay close attention to Sir Charles, it was a thick lobster bisque. She watched as he used the big, round spoon from the right-hand side of his place setting, and Evelyne followed suit, using the same outward strokes, and did not once scrape the plate. The dinner seemed to go on for ever, the conversation stilted and extremely strained, David’s withdrawn silence affecting them all. Lady Primrose battled on, trying to encourage the party spirit, and told them funny little stories about her two sons, Clarence and Charles, or Charlie, as he was known.
‘We named him after you, didn’t we, David darling? David?’
Lady Primrose smiled, but her quiet voice had an edge to it.
‘David, I just said we call him after cousin Charles … you really must come and see the boys, will you be here long enough?’
Ignoring her question, Sir Charles signalled to Dewhurst to serve the main course. Primrose gave David a kick beneath the table. She was trying so hard, and in their precarious financial situation they really needed to keep on the right side of her rich, if rather distant, relative.
When the main course was served, Evelyne had to hide her smile as she saw Heather eating like a horse, everything before her vanishing at great speed. She made unconscious little ‘mmmm’ sounds of appreciation, which irritated Freddy. He frowned at her, making her peer around the table like a guilty child. Freddy’s fork clattered on to his plate when Sir Charles spoke out of the blue.
‘Any of you read about this gypsy chap, the one on the murder rap? Very interesting case, I have a personal interest in it.’
This game was partly at Evelyne’s instigation, although it saddened her. She was being used as a pawn, and she waited expectantly to see what the outcome of the evening would be.
The port and brandy decanters were placed on the table, and the ladies withdrew to the sitting-room.
‘Very nice dinner, Mother always says this is one of the best hotels … oh, coffee, and mints, tres bon.’ Heather gave a toothy smile as Evelyne poured the coffee. ‘I didn’t catch where you were staying? Evelyne?’
‘I have a suite here.’
Primrose began a slow dance across the room, swaying, moving closer and closer until she stood directly
before Evelyne.
‘Can you do the Charleston? No? Want me to teach
you? Come on, try it.’
She backed away flicking her heels out and humming the tune. Evelyne sensed that Primrose was laughing at her, the baby blue eyes were spiteful, glittering.
‘Thought your sort of woman had to know the latest steps.’
Evelyne continued pouring the coffee, held a cup out to Lady Primrose, who waved her hand. ‘No sugar, sweet enough, be-boop-be-doo.’
She. danced past Evelyne, whose cup went over and spilt down the glittering, sequinned dress. Lady Primrose didn’t shriek out, she didn’t move; the coffee made a dark brown stain, spreading and dripping over the beads. Her little delicate hand shot out and slapped Evelyne’s face. ‘I believe my husband should have done that to you a long time ago.’
The port went round for the third time, the cigar smoke swirled around the men’s heads. They were relaxed, enjoying the many witty anecdotes with which Sir Charles regaled them. He played the evening like a poker game, finally delivering his winning hand, card by card. He began by moving first the decanter, ashtray and his port glass to one side, and with the table cleared he leaned on his elbows on the table. ‘Gentlemen, now to the business of the evening, the reason I asked you both here.’
David leaned back, smiling, the drink had eased him. Freddy, sharper and more alert, had been waiting for something. His heart beat faster.
‘I want you both to stand as witnesses to Miss Evelyne Jones’ statement in court next week. You were, I am led to believe, both present at a certain boxing match on Highbury Hill. The fighter was a gypsy called Freedom Stubbs.’
Freddy leaned forward, pushing his glass away. ‘I am aware of the case, a murder case, but perhaps I did not make myself clear to Miss Jones. I really feel that my presence in court, particularly in such an appalling case, would be most distasteful, I have already stated my feelings on this …’
Sir Charles interrupted, ‘Rubbish, man, your word is essential. You both instigated the evening’s outing, am I not right? Miss Jones had no prior knowledge of this boxing match?’ ,
Freddy stubbed out his cigar. ‘I really couldn’t say, but judging by what I know of her she’s a little tramp, and the public outcry surrounding these murders would be frightful. The gel is a blackmailer, David here can tell you more … David? How much money did she demand from you?’
Sir Charles banged the table. ‘I don’t call twenty pounds a large sum, especially as the girl was more than likely owed twice that from her share of the Collins’ house.’
Nonplussed, Freddy turned to David.
‘You told me she had demanded more than a hundred, good God, I gave you over fifty towards it, David?’
David downed the remains of his port. His manner changed, he became surly, giving Freddy a foul look. ‘The way you carry on, old chap, I’d say you owe me a hell of a lot more, you think I’m blind as well as sick? Do you? Do you?’ He rose to his feet and lurched against the table, glaring at Freddy. ‘Not your money anyway, you don’t have a penny to your name, so what are you bleating about?’
Sir Charles poured more port. He spoke in a calm, conversational voice that was not raised in the slightest. ‘Now, now, let’s not get into a nasty argument, let’s just take things easy, shall we? Whatever marital problems you both may have they certainly wouldn’t look good spread across the Cardiff Herald … all that is required of you both is a simple statement saying you escorted Miss Jones …’
David turned his anger on Sir Charles. ‘Exactly what are you implying? None of your bloody business! What marital problems? Eh? What? What’s he talking about?’ He was on his feet, blazing, moving round to Freddy’s chair with his fist up and looking foolish and inept.
”Sit down, David! Sit, please, let’s not raise our voices, we don’t want the ladies upset… and I really don’t want to drag my cousin into any adverse publicity.’
David sat down again like a lamb, reached for his port and downed the remainder of the glass in one gulp. Freddy looked at Sir Charles. ‘The girl was brought to the fair by David, that is all I know, I had nothing to do with her, but if David agrees, then … David?’
David simply stared at Freddy.
‘If David agrees, I will go along with whatever he has to say. David?’
There was a short burst of humourless laughter from David, then he glared at Freddy. ‘I’m sure you will, always such a friend, I am not going into a bloody court and that’s final.’
Sir Charles smiled his thanks at Freddy and asked to be left alone with David. As Freddy closed the door Sir Charles picked up the decanter, carried it round the table and sat close to David, who reached for the port. Suddenly, Sir Charles’ hand shot out and gripped David’s wrist. ‘No more, old fella, I want a private chat.’ ‘I’ve got a headache.’
‘Dare say you have, this won’t take long … David, I would hate what I s
ay ever to go beyond this room, but I want you, should I need you, in that courtroom.’
‘I don’t remember things, haven’t you been told? You put me on a witness stand and I’ll go to pieces.’
‘All you have to do is sign a statement, that’ll be good enough. I don’t want to have to subpoena you, then you’d have to take the stand, don’t make me do that … You know, David, you were not the only officer to turn tail, you were in the front line for six months, and your reputation was unblemished … I recall many officers - in particular poor old Ridgely - often spoke of you. Remember Ridgely, do you? Died of syphilis, I’m told.’
David went grey, his forehead puckered, and he turned terrible, pleading eyes to Sir Charles.
‘Face it, don’t be afraid, it’s over, no one blames you. But sadly, there are those who can never understand. There was nightmare carnage, human carnage, to face day in, day out. It can destroy any man …’ ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ Sir Charles rose from the table and carefully replaced the chair. He felt deep disgust for this shell of a man, a captain who had turned tail on twenty-five of his men. Not one survived. His voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Oh, I think you do.’
David stared at him, like a frightened child. ‘My lawyer will contact you for the statement. Now shall we join the ladies, Captain?’
Freddy had already joined the ladies. The atmosphere was decidedly chilly. A bowl of water and a cloth were brought by Dewhurst, and Freddy helped Lady Primrose try to remove the coffee stain. In furtive whispers he told her what had taken place in the dining room. ‘Charles knows about us, God knows how. David’s been drinking, you’ll have to get him home - he looks as if he’s going to throw one of his fits.’
They were joined by an ebullient Sir Charles. He gave Evelyne a small wink to say all was well, then sat with Heather, offering her the remains of the chocolates with a flourish. They discussed the family chocolate and toffee bsuiness, and he made a mental note to check out the Warner shares, perhaps buy a few. The company would be at an all-time low after the war, so the shares would be cheap.
Lady Primrose went to the open dining-room doors, then turned with a sigh, saying that she felt she should take David home, he was obviously tired. Dewhurst fetched wraps and coats, and everyone thanked Sir Charles politely. Evelyne was ignored, left sitting with her empty coffee cup. David seemed in a world of his own, his eyes vacant and a soft smile on his lips, but as they all left he turned back to Evelyne, raised his hand as though he wanted to say something. Primrose slipped her arm about his waist. ‘Come along, David, the car’s waiting.’
When he returned from seeing them out, Sir Charles clapped his hands.
‘All went as planned, dearie, we will have their statements first thing in the morning. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m away to my bed. Dewhurst, show the young lady out.’
Evelyne stared at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, then she tried to do the Charleston, holding on to the back of the chair. A sad, silly gesture, and she immediately felt foolish.
She replaced the diamonds and emeralds in their leather case. Like the jewels, she felt as though she had been hired for the night.
Ed Meadows walked Miss Freda home through the damp night. He was flushed from all the beer he had drunk, and Miss Freda was equally pink in the face from her numerous port and lemons.
‘Well, it’s been ever such a nice evenin’, Freda, perhaps we could do it again if you’d like, I mean, I don’t wanna be too forward. Are you walkin’ out wiv anyone?’
Tittering, Freda placed her hand over her mouth. Ed grinned.
‘You’re a lovely-looking woman, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed meself ternight, been a good time.’
Lifting her tiny hand to his lips he gave it a resounding kiss. She smiled sweetly, very much the lady. ‘I would like so much to see you again, I have had a wonderful time too.’
Ed rocked on his heels, he was so tickled. ‘Well then, we’ll do it again, g’night… Oh, Freda, I’m not married or nuffink, are you available, like?’
She patted his barrel chest and he caught her to him and hugged her expertly. She giggled and pushed him away, gave him a coy, sexy flutter of the eyelids and hurried inside.
Ed tottered back to his bed-and-breakfast hotel, singing at the top of his voice, ‘I’m ‘Enery the eighth I am, ‘Enery the eighth I am, I am …’
In her cracked dressing-table mirror Freda studied her reflection. Well, she thought, he’s not much, but then nor am I. She wished she hadn’t lied about her age, though. She put her curlers in, creamed her face and lay down in her tiny, single bed. ‘You’re never too old, darling, but you’d better reel this fish in fast.’
The Rolls-Royce glided soundlessly along the dark, wet streets. David sat hunched in a corner, staring out into the night. Lady Primrose had tried to hold his hand, but he shrugged away from her. She remained close, trying not to let her thigh press against Freddy’s as he, too, sat in the back of the Rolls. Heather was sitting in the front with the driver, and she spoke as if to the windscreen wiper. ‘Thought it was a good meal, didn’t you, dear?’
Freddy made no reply. He sighed, and Primrose looked at him. His face was haunted, he wanted her, loved her so dearly.
‘I want to see a doctor, some kind of specialist, maybe it would help me,’ said David, petulantly.
Primrose slipped her arm through David’s and rested her head on his shoulder. He was trembling, his whole body shaking.
‘Yes, dearest, that is a good idea.’ Tears came into her eyes. She couldn’t bear to turn to Freddy, she wanted him so much, loved him so much.
They were silent as the car drove on, the only sound the ‘swish, swish’ of the tyres on the wet streets.
Evelyne lay wide awake in bed. She was finding sleep hard to come by. She tossed and turned, and began to think of the village, her Da, which made her keenly aware of her loneliness. She could see Hugh’s big face, and would have liked more than anything to be wrapped in his strong arms. She was twenty-four years old, and had never known what it was like to be loved by a man.
Chapter 15
SMETHURST and Sir Charles sat at a small corner table in the restaurant of the Feathers public house. Smethurst was slicing his cheese with delicate precision. The port was brought to the table. Smethurst wiped his mouth with his stained napkin, lifted his glass in a toast.
‘Well, here’s to this afternoon’s proceedings.’ Sir Charles sipped his port, noting that Smethurst had downed his glass in one. He swivelled round in his seat as Smethurst made an expansive gesture to the doorway. Standing talking to the head waiter was a stern-faced man wearing a charcoal overcoat and carrying a homburg. ‘That’s the opposition, old chap.’ Smethurst bellowed across the restaurant, ‘Jeffrey, will
you join us?’
Jeffrey Henshaw crossed to their table and introductions were made. Shaking Sir Charles’ outstretched hand, he politely refused to join them. He tapped his gold fob watch and cocked his head to one side, smiling at Smethurst, ‘I’d say you should be on the move, proceedings are due to start in fifteen
minutes.’
Smethurst laughed, stuffed another slice of cheese into his mouth, spattering Henshaw’s overcoat with flecks of it. ‘Just you remember you owe me more than one favour - Ethel Patterson, Jeffers, Ethel Patterson.’
Henshaw stepped sharply back from the table, pursed his lips and tapped his homburg against his thigh. ‘Listen, you old devil, you know what these committal proceedings are like, ruddy magistrates dither around and I’ve got a very busy day, so get those flat feet on the trot.’ He gave Sir Charles a stiff bow and strode off among the tables.
‘What was all that about?’ asked Sir Charles.
Smethurst picked up his battered briefcase. As he placed it on the table a cheese cracker crumbled under the weight.
‘I got him out of a very sticky situation with one of his clients, a Miss Patterson - very naughty lady. Well, old chap, this is it,
I’ll call you soon as I have a result.’ Suddenly his manner was more subdued.
‘You sure you don’t want me along?’ asked Sir Charles.
‘Good God no, it could take hours. There’s a hellish lot of statements to be read and witnesses to call - no, no, I’ll be in touch soon as I have any news. I’m confident, we’ll get the lad off, be no problem … unless Henshaw plays a double hand, but I have a feeling he won’t. He wants the rope for Stubbs, but has to concede there’s no evidence on the first three charges. Won’t be as easy on the fourth murder rap, you can take my word for that… He’s got a long list of prosecution witnesses. Well, I’m off, thanks for a splendid lunch.’
Sir Charles watched Smethurst stride off, dropping his napkin on the floor as he squeezed among the diners. He wished he could feel as positive as his friend. Smethurst’s bulging briefcase, stuffed with what he had described as ‘hard evidence, old bean’, did not, in Sir Charles’ opinion, sound good enough to get Freedom Stubbs off three of the four murder charges filed against him.
Sir Charles had underestimated his old friend. Even Henshaw was slightly taken aback at the amount of paperwork and obvious private detection Smethurst had managed to do. Henshaw, of course, had access to the statements, but still he was impressed, and still slightly in awe of the man he had learned so much from.
Smethurst held forth, resting his elbow on top of a mound of papers. More and more were produced and waved around. The row of magistrates listened intently as Smethurst proved without a doubt that Freedom Stubbs could not have committed the three murders that occurred in Cardiff. Statements from witnesses proved that Freedom Stubbs was not even in the vicinity of Cardiff when the killings took place. A humorous throwaway line clarified his point.
‘Unless my client had an aeroplane, which I assure you he did not have, it would have been physically impossible for him to have been in Cardiff on the days in question. I therefore submit that there is no case against Freedom Stubbs on the first three counts of murder, and ask for those counts to be dismissed in view of the evidence I have laid before you. There is no case to answer, sir.’
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