Michael Ridpath - Shadows of War

But Conrad’s father couldn’t help him find out about Millie’s death either. His only hope was Anneliese.

Conrad almost missed her in the crowd of men in uniform enthusiastic for their weekend leave, barging their way towards the station exits. She saw him first, and jumped up and down, waving to attract his attention. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform, and she was smiling as Conrad kissed her cheek.

‘Thanks for waiting,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry the train is so late.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Anneliese. ‘It’s hardly your fault. There is a café around the corner. Shall we go there? I have something I want to talk to you about.’

Anneliese led Conrad between the piles of sandbags at the station entrance, across Bishopsgate to Artillery Lane, and there they found a small café with a spare table. As they walked Anneliese chattered about her shift at the hospital, what her parents had been up to and a picture she had been to see with her mother: The Lambeth Walk .

‘Thanks for your letters,’ said Conrad as they finally sat down. ‘You’ve been busy.’

‘I have. They are such dreadful people, Conrad! Truly awful.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Conrad, amused by Anneliese’s improving grasp of English idiom. ‘So you don’t like Constance?’

‘I can’t stand her. But she loves me. I’m her pet German. As we thought, the Russian Tea Rooms is full of anti-Semites. They have formed some secret society, called “The Right Club”. Anna Wolkoff is the secretary, and the president is a Conservative MP, Captain Maule Ramsay.’

‘I spotted him when I met Constance there.’

‘Horrible man. Hates the Jews and doesn’t know the first thing about them! The others all love him.’

‘So who are the members of this “Right Club”?’

‘Not me. I did try, and Constance pushed for me to be let in, but they wouldn’t have me. I am pretty sure Anna Wolkoff doesn’t trust me.’ Anneliese sipped her tea. ‘There are lots of women. Most of the men have gone off to war, and it’s tricky for them, poor darlings. They hate the Jews and love the Nazis, but they are true patriots and want to fight for their country. There is a loyal band of regulars: Maule Ramsay, his wife, Constance, her friend Marjorie Copthorne, a pretty woman called Joan Miller — a model, I think. Then there is Anna Wolkoff and a suave friend of hers called Tyler Kent. He’s American, does something at their embassy in London, and seems to have been posted to Moscow before that. He speaks Russian.’

‘Not Alston?’

‘No. Constance says she tries to get him to come, but he refuses. He’s afraid of being seen there. I don’t blame him.’

‘So Constance is still in touch with Alston?’

Anneliese smiled. ‘Oh, very much so. In fact she is his mistress!’

‘Really?’ Conrad was surprised, although the idea that a Tory MP might have a little mistress to keep him entertained while he was in London and his wife was in the constituency shouldn’t have shocked him.

‘She’s desperately proud of it. She thinks the world of him. She thinks he’s going to be Prime Minister.’

‘He’s only been an MP a few years, hasn’t he?’ Conrad said.

‘Since 1935. But she is certain he will be. Soon. And what’s more interesting, he’s just as certain.’

‘That is interesting. How?’

‘He has a plan. I’m sure Constance knows what it is, but she won’t tell me.’

‘Is it a coup? Is he in touch with Oswald Mosley?’

‘Oh, no. He hates Mosley and therefore so does Constance.’

‘Has she mentioned the Duke of Windsor at all?’ Conrad asked.

‘Not in that context. We have spoken about him. She likes him, but I think that’s because he is good-looking and charming and she likes the romance of him giving up the throne for the woman he loved.’

‘Nothing about him and Alston?’

Anneliese shook her head. ‘No. But I’m sure there is something going on.’

‘That’s just what I’ve been thinking.’ What he wasn’t sure of was how he could find out what. ‘Any luck with Millie’s murder?’

‘Not directly. But I did learn something a couple of weeks ago that just might be connected. That’s why I wrote to you.’

‘Yes. Sorry I couldn’t come right away. They wouldn’t let me.’

‘Were you in Norway?’

‘Almost,’ said Conrad. ‘So what did you learn?’

‘I was talking to Marjorie, and Constance was there. For some reason we were discussing her Uncle Freddie. He was a close friend of Alston. He was killed in November last year, run over by a car in the blackout. Whoever did it didn’t stop. Anyway, Marjorie said that her aunt, Freddie’s wife, is convinced that it was Henry Alston who ran him down! They were having a drink together at Freddie’s club, and Alston left a couple of minutes before Freddie.’

‘Why would he want to kill Lord Copthorne?’

‘That’s what I asked. Apparently Lord Copthorne was worried about what Alston was up to, although it’s not clear what precisely that was.’

‘Did the police investigate?’

‘For a day. Then it all went quiet. Lady Copthorne thinks they are covering something up. Specifically that they are protecting Henry Alston.’

‘Good God!’

‘Constance was looking daggers at Marjorie as she said this. Marjorie said that her aunt was paranoid, and no one could possibly want to kill her sweet Uncle Freddie on purpose, especially his best friend. Then Constance said something rather interesting. Or at least I thought it was interesting.’

‘Which was?’

‘That Marjorie’s Aunt Polly — Lady Copthorne — was completely bats. Marjorie seemed a little put out by this and pointed out that Constance had never met her aunt. Constance said everyone knew it, and was furious with Marjorie.’

‘So you think Constance jumped in to shut Marjorie up?’

‘Yes. Because she knew she was right. Alston did run down Lord Copthorne.’

Conrad smiled. ‘Yes, that is interesting. But I suppose it is conceivable that Constance was defending Alston because she is dotty about him.’

‘It’s conceivable,’ said Anneliese. ‘But it seemed to me at the time that it was more than that. That she wanted Marjorie to shut up because her aunt was on to something.’

‘Could Lord Copthorne’s death have had something to do with why Millie was killed?’

Anneliese shrugged. ‘Maybe. It might all be just a coincidence. But it’s worth checking, don’t you think?’

‘I do,’ said Conrad. ‘I most certainly do.’

‘Did you know Lord Copthorne? Do you know anyone who knew him? Or his wife?’

‘I didn’t,’ said Conrad. ‘My father certainly did; in fact, I remember at Christmas he mentioned Freddie Copthorne had died. He might know Polly Copthorne. I can certainly ask him. I’m not sure he will give me a straight answer.’

‘How are you getting on with your father?’

‘I haven’t seen him since Christmas. We write to each other every now and then, but we don’t really say anything. I don’t know what to say. I mean, I still blame him for sending Millie to Holland, but he didn’t mean her to die, obviously. In fact, he asked me to go and I refused. And although I still profoundly disagree with him, I do understand that his motives for trying to stop the war are noble. He’s a noble man.’

‘And you haven’t told him any of this? In your letters?’

‘No,’ Conrad admitted.

Anneliese shook her head. ‘You English!’

‘I do write to my mother,’ Conrad said. ‘I tell her about how I feel.’

‘Except about your father,’ Anneliese said.

Conrad shrugged. Then a thought struck him. ‘Come to think of it, there is someone who definitely knows Polly Copthorne.’