Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

Heather sighed, sucking in her breath over her protruding teeth. ‘He married me, Mother.’

Evelyne replaced the phone.

‘Well, Freda, that was dreadful, he wouldn’t even listen to me.’

Not one to give up, Miss Freda paced the room. ‘Next we find this Tulip girl, she will also be a witness, yes? Come along, Bianco’s still thrives, we will ask there.’

Tulip? Yes, the owner of Bianco’s remembered her very well indeed, he could describe her in detail. He rolled his eyes lewdly and made clucking sounds as he talked.

‘Do you know where we could find her?’

He sighed, sat down, and shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I’m sorry, the lady is more than likely pushing up the tulips herself. She died, oh, one year, maybe less … but I knew her well, many nights she was here, but…’

They returned, crestfallen, to the hotel, and took the lift to Sir Charles’ suite. As they knocked, Sir Charles swung the door open. ‘Well, how did it go, dearie? You have good news?’

Evelyne sighed and shook her head. Far from it. She told him the bad news, that neither Freddy nor David would act as witnesses, and that Tulip was dead. She had never before seen Sir Charles angry. He muttered under his breath and swung his monocle about by its ribbon. He paced the room and asked her to tell him once more, right from the beginning, what had taken place. All through her story he drummed his fingers and wandered around the room.

‘Freddy, or His Lordship, as he is now, wouldn’t stand up in court because of the possible scandal, but the gossipmongers would like to know just how familiar he is with David’s wife. I saw him, saw him with Lady Primrose, she doesn’t love David …’

Sir Charles replaced his monocle and sat down, interrupting Evelyne’s bitter tirade. ‘Lady Primrose Boyd-Carpenter? Getting me rather confused, my dear. Now repeat what you just said with a little logic so I can piece it all together.’

Evelyne felt as if Sir Charles’ magnified eye was boring into her as she repeated her story yet again. He threw back his head and roared with laughter, which took her completely off guard.

Dewhurst carried in the telephone from the study, trailing the long cord. ‘Mr Smethurst for you, sir, I apologize for interrupting but it is long distance and rather urgent.’

Smethurst was very pleased with himself, so far the story Freedom Stubbs had told him was checking out. The killings that had taken place in Cardiff could not have been committed by their client. In each case he was in another town, and in two instances he was actually in a boxing ring. Sir Charles replaced the receiver. It was more’important than ever that Evelyne’s story checked out one hundred per cent. ‘Now you are sure, absolutely sure, that David Collins’ wife is having some sort of liaison with Lord Freddy, yes? Am I right, yes?’

Evelyne bit her lip. Never one to gossip, she hated the sound of her own voice saying it. ‘Lord Freddy was engaged to Lady Primrose before David. After the war, when David came home, they married and had a son, but David had changed, and Freddy and Primrose were friendly even then. Now, well, I have seen them being very familiar actually in the tea room here at the Grand.’

‘Good God, the tea room, well, well.’

She felt he was laughing at her primness, but the next moment he opened his wallet. ‘I want you to purchase a very special evening gown. It’s essential that you look absolutely stunning. Off you go, and remember, a stunning creation, I think something green to go with your colouring.’

He didn’t even look at the amount he had given her, just handed her three notes. They were five-pound notes, and Evelyne didn’t know what to say. Dewhurst ushered her out of the suite, and Sir Charles got to work immediately, making calls to Lady Primrose and to Freddy Carlton.

Ed rushed in, looking crestfallen. ‘Gor blimey, I just ‘eard, not one of them toffs will admit to even being at the fight, that’s our defence up the spout, ain’t it?’

Sir Charles covered the telephone with his hand. ‘Ed, my old chum, don’t be such a defeatist, do you really think I would give up so easily? You know the Wheeler family has relatives all over England, rather distant, of course, but I intend to pull family strings.’ He listened to the telephone. ‘Yes, dearie, I’m still here … oh, thank you.’

Ed sat on the edge of his seat.

‘Hello, my dear gel, is that Primrose? Why, it’s Charlie, yes, I am in town … oh, only just arrived; goodness, it must be so many years … how’s your mother? Oh, she is? So sorry …’

Sir Charles appeared to be in the throes of one of his usual social calls so Ed made for the door, but Sir Charles stopped him.

‘Ed, pass the word to Miss Jones that she is to be here in my suite prompt at nine o’clock, not a minute before, thank you … Hello, Primmy? You still there?

Ah, now then, I know it’s short notice, but could you make it this evening? Oh, splendid, splendid.’

Finding no answer at Evelyne’s door, Ed went down to reception and left a message for her — nine o’clock sharp, not a minute earlier or later. They were to dine in Sir Charles’ suite. Just as he was licking his lips at the thought of a nice, frothing beer, he was called back to the desk. Sir Charles wanted him to collect a small package from a local jewellery store.

Freda had not been one hundred per cent certain about the gown, and nearly fainted at the price tag, but Evelyne was sure, and she bought it.

‘Oh, Evelyne, I could make it for a quarter, no a tenth of the price, I could, I really could.’

The pair returned to the hotel, exhausted, and Evelyne collected her keys. As she read the message she turned to Freda in horror. ‘It’s tonight, the dinner’s tonight. Oh, Freda, I’ll never be ready!’

As tired as she was, Miss Freda worked on Evelyne like a little beaver. She laid out the long satin gown, the white gloves and the tiny, embroidered handbag. Evelyne sat in front of the dressing-table mirror in a pure silk underslip, and Miss Freda began to brush her hair, which fell to below her waist. Freda had to get down on her knees to brush out the ends. They had shampooed and scrubbed the hair until, when dry, it shone like gold.

A tap on the door sent Evelyne rushing this way and that as she was nowhere near ready. ‘Who is it? I’m not dressed!’

‘Miss Jones, it’s me, Ed, I got somefink for yer from Sir Charles, it’s just for ternight, ‘e says, but for you ter use it.’

At Evelyne’s nod Miss Freda opened the door, peeked round it and took the parcel from Ed. As she shut the door he tapped again.

‘It’s Miss Freda, ain’t it? Evelyne said you was helping her, like, are you available ternight for a few drinks, there’s a good dance hall wiv a band?’

Blushing and tittering, Freda said she would be delighted.

‘Oh, Evie, I have a date myself, now I have to rush … Oh, my hair, oh, my dress … Oh, can you manage without me, darling? Oh, he said to give you this, for tonight, from Sir Charles.’

Not two minutes ago Freda had been too exhausted to move. Now she leapt about like a young girl.

Evelyne was delighted to be left alone. She opened the brown paper and looked at the leather case, then inched open the lid and gasped. It contained a necklace of diamonds and emeralds with matching bracelet and drop earrings.

At eight o’clock sharp Dewhurst ushered Lord Frederick Carlton into Sir Charles’ suite, accompanied by what Sir Charles at first presumed was his mother, only to discover it was his wife. The short, squat, dumpy woman wore a frightful dress, and more diamonds than the royal jewels.

‘Freddy, old boy, how delightful to see you, come in, come in, and Dewhurst, champagne immediately.’