Barbara Cleverly - The Blood Royal

‘I’d be delighted, David.’

Joe watched as the pair of them made their way on to the dance floor, where they were greeted by a wave of relief and pleasure from the crowd.

Lily began to feel a rush of something she identified as euphoria. Whatever it was called, it carried her on the lightest of feet around the dance floor.

Edward seemed to be experiencing the same elation. ‘I think we can crawl out of the bunker now,’ he whispered. ‘Danger past. Sandilands thinks he’s drawn the venom. Which is what all this is about, you know. Well, for this evening at least. All the same … I don’t know what your orders are, but I’ve been advised to make a swift exit if we ever reached this stage. So we must enjoy the last flourish. What an evening! You must let me lay on a motor car to take you home.’

‘Thank you, sir, but I think my evening is only halfway through. There was murder done tonight and the commander has no one in handcuffs. The snake has wriggled away.’

Joe was waiting for them when they returned to the table. ‘Ah! There you are, Lily my dear. All done here for the moment. Time to say goodnight and thank you for having me to these nice people. I want you to come straight back with me now. You’re in for a sleepless night, I’m afraid.’ He took her arm and clamped it under his.

‘Good Lord!’ murmured Connie Beauclerk, watching their hurried departure with sly amusement. ‘Commander Sandilands is very direct, isn’t he? His Scottish cousin, did I hear someone say that girl was? Mmm … a fashionable thing to be, but I do wonder. David, it’s my opinion your new girlfriend’s just been snatched by the dashing detective from the Met — right from under your nose. She surrendered and went quietly — and, gosh! one quite sees why — but you’ve lost her.’

Edward looked thoughtfully down at the wreckage of the table. ‘But I didn’t lose my life, Connie. And I think I was meant to.’

He watched silently as the corpse was taken up in a tablecloth by four strapping young men and carried out of the room.

The commander’s car drew up to the rear entrance as they came out and he handed an exhausted Lily into the deep comfort of the back seat, where she dropped off almost at once. She awoke with a start only minutes later as the car came to a halt at a junction. Guiltily she glanced about her, checking that in her unconscious state she hadn’t lurched into his iron shoulder but had come to rest against the padded upholstery.

Joe thought he’d better reassure her that nothing indecorous had taken place: ‘Lord, Wentworth. You drop off faster than my old Labrador. But you don’t slobber and you don’t wuffle as loudly as he did.’

‘So sorry, sir. How shaming! It’s moving vehicles — they put me to sleep. Limousine or old rattletrap — it makes no difference. The conductor of the forty-two bus had to shake me awake once at the terminus. Are we there yet?’

‘No, not quite. We’ve just passed Chelsea Harbour. I thought we’d get out at Westminster and walk along the river for a stretch. Nice night. We’ll get a bit of fresh air into our lungs before we start work. Must stay sharp for the meeting.’ Moments later, he leaned forward and pulled aside the glass. ‘Sergeant — I want you to drop us off here and go home. Call for me at the Yard at six, will you?’

The driver opened the door and helped Lily on to the pavement. A short way downriver, Big Ben boomed half past some hour or other. Taxis sped by full of people in evening dress; ahead of them a knot of shrieking revellers made a dangerous dash across the street to take a closer look at the Thames.

‘Half past one o’clock and London’s still open for business, lit up and roistering. This is an early night for HRH. Poor chap — he was looking quite done in, I thought, towards the end. Still — he played his part with some skill, don’t you agree? Not easy being the mealy worm on the hook at the end of the line.’

‘I thought him skilful, brave and — yes — charming, sir.’

A mist was rising from the river and its deliciously chill breath made her shiver. She pulled her cashmere wrap more closely about her shoulders and watched as his car made a daring U-turn and set off in the opposite direction. She turned her head abruptly away from the road, annoyed but amused at what she saw, then looked up surreptitiously to see if he’d noticed the car tailing them.

‘I won’t offer an arm,’ he said easily. ‘I’ve noticed you like to stride out. Tell you what I will offer though … we’ve plenty of time before the team starts to assemble. In a hundred yards or so there’ll be another comfort available. Tell me when any food last passed your lips, Wentworth.’

She had to think hard before she remembered. ‘I had a ham sandwich in the Strand, sir. At midday.’

‘Not good enough. I’m sorry for that. You must allow me to make amends.’

She didn’t show any pleasure at his suggestion but pattered resentfully after him. He was about to rethink his offer of a supporting arm but decided against it. She wouldn’t welcome the gesture and wouldn’t quite know how to refuse it.

They marched on in silence, the traffic becoming thicker as they neared Scotland Yard. Joe stopped suddenly when he reached the head of a taxi rank where a long, low building resembling a railway carriage had been constructed. Weatherboarded and painted park-bench green, it had a small black projecting iron stovepipe giving out a blast of coal, smoke and cooking food. A notice over the door declared it to be Licensed Cabman Shelter No. 402 .

He put his head round the door and shouted a question. Satisfied with the rumbling response from the interior, he opened the door wider. ‘It’s for cabbies,’ he explained. ‘A sort of revictualling station. These things are everywhere in London but people hardly notice them. They’re not supposed to let just anybody in — they’d lose their licence — but if they get to know you they’ll allow you eat here. Let’s go on board and see what we can find.’

Joe took off his top hat and ducked through the low doorway. Lily followed, stepping from the chilly street into a welcoming fug.

‘Evening, Frank,’ Joe said to the whiskered man behind the counter. ‘I’d like something for this young lady to eat. She’s ravenous. In fact we both are.’

‘Evening, Captain!’ Frank looked pleased to see Joe and if he was taken aback by his white tie and tails he showed no sign of it. ‘Hungry, are you?’

‘I’ll say. We’ve just spent several hours in the restaurant at Claridges, toying with larks’ tongues and picking at plovers’ eggs.’

Frank’s moustache bristled with distaste. ‘Ah. Well, you’ll be needing a Zeppelin in the clouds with onion gravy, then. That’ll stick your ribs together.’

‘That’s sausage and mash, Wentworth.’

Suddenly the idea of sausage and mash made Lily’s eyes gleam. ‘Oh, yes please! That would go down a treat.’

‘Righto. That’ll be two Zeppelins, Frank, and what have you got on for pudding tonight?’

‘Figgy duff to follow, sir, with a dollop of custard?’

Lily’s eyes lit on a cabby spooning up a richly scented pudding and she nodded.

There were two other solid figures in the shelter, steadily eating their way through a substantial serving of something brown and glutinous. They both greeted Sandilands. ‘Evenin’, Captain!’

‘You’re up late,’ said one of them through the steam from a white china cup.

‘No rest for the wicked,’ said Joe, returning the expected reply and enjoying the expected guffaw it produced. And to Lily, ‘Shall we sit over there in the corner?’

As soon as they settled, a large freckled hand descended between them and plates of sausage and mash appeared on the table.